Enchanting Ghost
by dark.in.a.box
Summary: Hawke and Fenris go to the Hanged Man unprepared for Danarius and there is no way to prevent him being taken. So she gives him up - but when the time comes to save him, she may not be able to fix what she's done.
1. More Mattresses

**Full Description**: One mistake leads to a disaster, and Hawke can't fix this anymore. This is a story about finding love, even when it's forgotten. FenrisxF!Hawke

**Disclaimer: ****The original characters and setting belong to Bioware and no copyright infringement is intended when writing this story.**

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><p><strong>Warning: Foul language. That will be throughout the story, so keep that in mind. Some adult situations, but that'll come later. This deviates from the plot vastly about nine chapters in, so if you're looking for cookie-cutter Dragon Age 2 fanfiction, you might be disappointed.<strong>

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><p><strong>Hawke: <strong>Female.

**Pairing: **With Fenris, of course.

**Timeline: **Starts in Act II.

**Chapter One: **More Mattresses

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><p><em>The pleasure of reading is doubled when one lives with another who shares the same books. <em>

_Stanislaw Lec_

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><p>"Don't kill me!"<p>

You'd think I would have gotten used to hearing people begging for their lives.

I sighed, sheathing my swords. "I'm not going to kill you, Merrill." I shot an irritated glare at Varric.

He shrugged. "I didn't _precisely _say you were going to kill her."

"Because 'Hawke stabs everyone who lurks in alleyways' is interpretive."

Varric laughed. "You're right. "Stab" is too narrow a term."

Shaking my head, I offered a hand to Anders, who had been knocked onto his ass during the battle. Or fight. I didn't think I could consider the short skirmish between a few thieves in an alleyway a "battle".

"You good?"

"I'm good."

Merrill shifted from foot to foot, and I turned on her. "Want to give me an explanation?" My eyebrows rose. She grimaced.

"Well, you see, Isabela told me-"

"_Isabela_," I groaned. The woman could not grasp subtle if her life depended on it. She was beginning to make all of us females look bad.

"You shouldn't listen to a word she says," I advised, remembering the giant spider nest I was tricked into at her behest. The venom still made my thighs itch - especially when I thought of it. "And if she's truly insistent, she'll come to _me_."

I scratched my leg discretely.

Merrill groaned. "I _told_ her you wouldn't like it, and then Varric said-"

"I was in the moment!" Varric protested. "I can't be held responsible for what may or may not have come from my mouth."

I rubbed my temples. "I'm not going to kill you, Merrill." I pointed at the dwarf. "Him, though…" I shook my head and threw up my hands, exasperated. "I need to pay a visit to Isabela," I griped.

"You can't blame her for her nature," Anders placated. His hand cupped my shoulder as he led me from the alley. "I'm positive she didn't intend for Merrill to fall into this trap…"

"Just like she didn't _intend_ to steal my underclothes," I listed. "Just like she didn't _intend_ to spike my drink. She did not _intend_ for my family portrait to catch on fire. She didn't _intend_-"

"I get it," he interrupted my heated ranting by chuckling. "Bad Isabela." He slid his arms around my waist and braced himself against me, but I suspected the action meant more to him.

I sighed, allowing him to lean on me and thinking of how easy it was to be with him. He was friendly, concerned, and despite what everyone said about his…possession…he was nice. Unless he was speaking to a templar sympathizer or - Maker forbid - an _actual_ templar.

"You're frightening when you're angry," he said, giving me a pleasant smile. "I doubt Isabela wanted this ire directed at her."

I sighed again. I was vaguely aware of Merrill and Varric bickering behind us as I headed to the Darktown apothecary to drop off Anders. "And they say road to hell is paved with good intentions," I said dryly. "Are you sure you don't want to grab a drink?"

He shook his head, straightening his stance and shaking off the momentary pain as we tread closer to his temporary home. "I'm sure. I heard something about a cat hanging around the neighborhood, and I intended to lay out milk earlier…"

I laughed at the visual of a cat dangling by its neck. "A cat…_hanging_ around Darktown? Are you sure it isn't hanging by a noose?" In this town, you could never tell.

Anders just smiled and looked at me queerly as I opened the door to the small makeshift hospital, leaving him. I waved goodbye and started on my way to Lowtown, watching Merrill and Varric trailing in front of me.

Anders was not such a bad person, I rationalized. Sure, he could work on his sense of humor, but I needed to stop using so much sarcasm anyway.

The din of The Hanged Man wafted down the street in the slow breeze, carrying shouts and laughter to my ears. Merrill headed off towards her home in the alienage as Varric entered the bar in front of me, leaving the door open for my entrance. He headed straight for the Wicked Grace table, a tale already tipping from his grinning lips as he eyed the players.

"Did I ever tell you of the time Hawke battled a battalion of Qun on the coast of…"

I shook my head, laughing at the poor sods hanging on his every word.

"Something funny?" Fenris said. I jumped in alarm, spinning around with a glare. He was perched onto a barstool, regarding the entire scene coolly.

"Just Varric being a little ass," I supplied, heading over to him. "What are you doing here?"

"I can't come to a bar and have a drink?"

"You could," I said warily. "If you didn't hate everyone."

His lip quirked. "What makes you think I hate everyone?"

"Maybe it's the fact that you _brood_ when anyone tries to speak with you," I teased, enjoying the way he frowned at the word. "Or it might be the sinister-looking armor you wear to intimidate anyone who gets close enough to see the spikes." I tapped my finger to my chin, narrowing my eyes in thought. "But it might be the scowl." Nodding, I confirmed my own musing, "Definitely the scowl."

"I don't brood," Fenris said, leaning back onto the bar. "You should stop talking to the dwarf as much."

"At least Varric doesn't brood," I pointed out, hopping onto the stool next to his.

"Then perhaps you should go sit at _his_ table."

My eyes darted to him. His white hair obscured most of his face from view, but I could see the smirk.

"Do you want me to leave?" My eyebrows shot up and I crossed my arms.

"Sit, Hawke," he directed, setting his empty glass onto the counter. "What is on our agenda for tomorrow?"

"I don't know. I'm contemplating taking a rather long, hot bath. With bubbles."

"Bubbles? A detailed plan."

"You don't know the half of it."

Oh, yes. I could see beyond the hard, tough exterior. That's right, Fenris. I know you're dying to release a giggle.

"And what, pray tell, will you do afterwards?" He turned to face me, his green eyes immediately meeting mine and glancing away as he fought the grin.

Don't fight it. You need a good smile. "It depends on what _you're _going to be up to," I said, my own mouth twitching. "Do you really dance in your mansion?"

"Planning to spy on me?" he asked. "Or are you inviting yourself over?"

"I can't pass up the chance to see you in action."

"Hawke, you see me murder people every day. Does it not qualify as 'action' to you?"

"All right, how's this? I think you should have a dance partner." I shook my hair about my head, a bad habit I had gotten since I had it trimmed. It was short and usually fell back into place; it was quite liberating, being able to shake it around randomly whenever I wanted. Fenris was amused as his head tilted toward mine, eyes tracing my hair - which was sticking up.

I surreptitiously angled my body so I could smooth my hair without being obvious about it.

"You think you could keep up?" Ah, there's the grin. Hopefully not at my expense. Stupid hair.

"Are you trying to insinuate I couldn't?" I asked in mock-outrage. "I'll have you know-"

A throat cleared. We both unlocked our eyes and faced a mildly disturbed Aveline.

"Aveline," I greeted with a wave.

"Captain," was Fenris's curt acknowledgement. I made a note to help him work on his people skills, and then disregarded the notation. I loved the way he treated everyone like scum under his dirty feet. It meant that I could do whatever I wished in his presence and still be the better person.

That and the change of tone he took from speaking to me to speaking with her gave me an ego boost.

"You actually got him to smile?" Aveline inquired. "His face didn't crack, did it?"

Fenris grumbled under his breath.

"It can happen every once in a while," I said sagely. "When there isn't a nosy redhead poking fun at his disability."

"Disability?" Fenris muttered in disbelief.

"Nosy redhead?" It fell from Aveline's mouth at the exact same moment.

"He can't help the way his face is permanently set in a frown," I informed. "I'm doing extensive research on the matter."

Fenris scoffed and ordered another drink.

"What brings the nosy redhead to the tavern?" I eyed her casual dress and wondered at the lack of armor. She looked good in a simple green dress - though hadn't I heard somewhere that redheads shouldn't wear green? - kind of… feminine.

Huh.

"I can't get a nice drink like the next louse?" she joked, ordering a pint for herself.

"There's got to be a reason for the guard captain to abandon her post." I shook my hair around again, an involuntary action, and then cringed at myself for doing it again. "And this is The Hanged Man. There is no such thing as a 'nice drink'."

My suspicions proved correct when the mischievous look appeared on her face. "I heard some of my soldiers talking about coming out here for a game and some drinks." Shrugging, she turned her back to the bar and looked about the room, settling them on a group of raucous young guards causing trouble. "I supposed it wouldn't hurt to loosen the armor for one night."

I tipped my head to her. "You cleaned up good, Red. Go kick some ass," I teased. My foot kicked out against the back of her thighs as she departed, and she laughed at my antics.

"Hawke," she drawled on her way. "One day, you'll have to grow up."

I watched her take a seat at the gambling table just as another shout rang up from Varric's side of the room.

"This place stays so busy," I mused, pursing my lips. "How does anyone stand being here for more than an hour? I think I've already gotten a headache."

"Perhaps we should depart," Fenris suggested slyly. "I believe we both have an…engagement."

I laughed, standing. "I believe you're right."

I put my drinks on Varric's tab, paying him back for all the times he'd bummed off my better nature. We both headed out into the night, Fenris keeping a half step behind me the entire walk to Hightown.

"Have you practiced any?" I asked, walking briskly around a corner and keeping my eyes peeled for any of the rotten gangs who plagued the streets at night.

"No," Fenris confessed, grimacing. "I fear I have little patience."

Oh, Fenris. No need to tell me. I _know_ you have little patience.

"You? Short-tempered?" My mouth gaped in shock. "Who would ever think-?"

"I get it," he snapped. "No need to tease."

My mouth shut and I bit my lip, hiding the snicker as he proved me right. When we walked in silence for a few more blocks, he sighed in aggravation.

"It's just…the language has been bastardized," he explained wearily. "How am I supposed to differentiate between spellings and pronunciations?"

"It's even worse when you _know_ you've done something wrong," I sympathized. "Then you just get pissed off until you figure it out."

"Precisely," he said, shifting his position so he was ahead of me as we approached his mansion. "If you'll excuse me…"

He hopped onto the ledge of the windowsill and pushed it open, slipping inside his foyer. I waited patiently for him to appear at the door, graciously welcoming me into his home.

We had been sharing nights like these together for months - ever since we both noticed the instinctive attraction (and the feeling of hopelessness that came with said attraction), we found a reason to be together.

Tonight, the reason is reading.

I remembered giving a book to Fenris once, and realized how much of a shame it was that he couldn't read. When I was younger, I had sought solace in the books of my father's library. He had text on every subject from cooking Orlesian apple cake to mastering the precarious art form of telepathy, and I devoured them all.

Well, not the apple cake, but the book written _about _apple cake. (And no, I didn't _literally eat _it. Hah. Literally eat - because it's literature…about food. Hah.) It helped me not feel as jealous when father spent time training Bethany, cultivating her magical talents. It helped me resist the torture of watching mother baby Carver, treating him like a prince.

But yeah. Reading is a good way to pass time without wasting it.

Anyways, it made me feel like shit to give him something he couldn't use, so I thought - _hey, why not?_ Everyone should know how to read at least one language, and Fenris was already fluent in quite a few languages. The language of words on paper should be simple for his mind to master.

It was, indeed, a great mind. He was short-tempered, constantly angry at the world, and always in pain, but he was brilliant. The longer we stayed huddled in his house, a book between us, the more he impressed me. He had so much _knowledge_ at his disposal, always observing quietly and passing his own judgments - unless he observed something which involved an incorrect use of magic, which would spark a monstrous argument for whoever dared to commit the offense.

Still, learning to read didn't happen in a day, just as the Blight hadn't been beaten in a day. These things took time.

I was enjoying every second.

I didn't know what excuse I was going to come up with to spend more time near him after he learned how to read. He already knew the basics - right now, the only problem was getting him to _practice_. I would make him read to me until the wee hours of the morning, resting my body and staring into space as his deep voice surrounded me in luxury.

It was quite a feat. His mansion was horrendous. I doubted anyone else felt luxurious while lying on one of the dank, cold and barren floors; but then again, who else would he talk to for hours?

So here we were. A book between us on the cold, unforgiving floor, our knees nearly touching, and his brow furrowed in concentration as he stared at the page.

"At Shar…tan's…word…" he pronounced the words slowly; glancing up at me every few seconds to be sure he has said them correctly.

I smiled each time, nodding, wanting more than ever to give him a friendly pat on the back or even a hug for just…being him. I doubted it was easy, living with the guilt and the shame and the pain of his past, but he did it while maintaining a cocky attitude and a sharp tongue.

"The sky… gr…grew black with arrows," he continued, and I watched his mouth form the words. The markings on his chin and neck glowed faintly in the light of the burning fire in front of us, and I traced the pattern with my eyes, trailing the white up his neck and behind his ear.

I had a terrible urge to lick the trail.

"At Our Lady's…" He stopped, his eyes flickering up to my intense stare. "Is something wrong, Hawke?"

I blinked, waking from my trance. "You're doing fine," I assured. "Keep going."

His white hair tumbled across his forehead as he nodded, an unhappy look on his face. "Are you positive you aren't doing anything important tomorrow?"

I shrugged. Usually people badgered me, but only when I was in public. Sometimes one of my friends would ask me for something specific, but I hadn't heard anything lately that would catch my attention. "Not that I know of." I smiled at him. "I wasn't kidding about the bath, you know. After the work in the Bone Pit, I've been quite sore-"

"Then perhaps some rest would do you well?" he interjected before I finished my sentence. My brow furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," he said slowly. "You've been here every night for the past week or so. Don't you think you should be getting more sleep?"

I glanced out the nearest window and was surprised to see a hint of light blue peaking through the pane. Was it morning already?

I flushed slightly. "I had no idea of the time," I said by way of apology. "I bet you're tired." I cringed, not even trying to hide my sheepish smile, rising to my feet and wavering a little.

It hadn't _felt_ like a long time to be sitting. "You're getting rather good," I told him, grabbing the book and masking a stretch. "I'll have to buy you some more books for when you don't need me here."

Fenris mumbled something beneath his breath sarcastically and led me to the door.

"You really _are_ getting better," I encouraged. "It's impressive."

He rolled his eyes and opened the door. "Good _night_, Hawke." He tipped his head at me as I passed by him.

"Good _morning_, Fenris," I shot back and was instantly rewarded with a short chuckle. I was starting to feel the late hour - or the _early_ hour, I should say - in the form of my sagging shoulders, aching limbs, and burning eyes.

It was _so _worth it.

The crack of dawn bore down upon me as I made my way to my Hightown Estate. It wasn't far from Fenris's mansion, which was lucky; I didn't want to encounter anyone with bad intentions while I was in this exhausted state. I imagined I wouldn't fare too well in a fight.

I didn't even make it to my bed before I slumped over, my head tussling my hair again as I discarded most of my heavy armor. The floor was hard and uncomfortable, so I tried to inch closer to the mattress, my arm reaching pitifully for the coveted softness.

It proved too hard a feat to accomplish. When did floor mats go out of style? The bed was just too high up, so I pulled the coverlet down on top of me, curling into a ball on the hard, hard floor and succumbing to unconsciousness.

_Note to self: Next Estate renovation will include softer floors or down mattresses on every surface._

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><p><strong>Who is your favorite Dragon Age 2 character?<strong>


	2. Fade Forgiveness

**Disclaimer: ****Bioware's lawyer can totally beat up my lawyer.**

**Chapter Two: Fade Forgiveness**

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><p><em>We have to distrust each other. It is our only defense against betrayal. <em>

_Tennessee Williams_

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><p>"<em>Get off of your ass," the boy commanded as he walked into the room. "You're embarrassing me."<em>

"_I'm not on my ass." The cloth I was smothered inside muffled my reply, and whatever I said had a wet, flat sound to it. I was lying facedown on top of a stack of hay, a pillow beneath my head. I couldn't recall ever being so tired._

"_I can't hear you over the sound of your failure," he insulted, grabbing my ankles._

"_Touch me and the hands come off," I threatened. _

"_Come _on_, Marian!" the boy whined. "All the good ones will be taken."_

"_Carver, I don't give a damn about some rotten old pumpkins."_

"_You _love _baking pumpkin pie," he pleaded._

"_No. Pumpkins."_

"Hawke?"

"_I hate pumpkins. Why do they even grow pumpkins here? Useless, big orange…"_

"Haaaawke."

"Carver, shut _up!_" I groaned, pulling the sheet over my head and burying my face into my arms. "I _hate_ pumpkins and I _hate_ pumpkin pie!"

"At least now I know what not to get you for your birthday," someone mused. "On another note: when is your birthday?"

My eyes popped open and I blinked. "Isabela?" I mumbled, feeling foggy with sleep.

"The same," she confirmed, sounding quite close. "Is there any reason why you're on the floor?"

"I was out all night trying to keep Merrill alive after you _abandoned _her." My retort accompanied a glare, and I pulled the covers up higher. "Go away."

"No," she said stubbornly, pulling at the comforter. "Get up."

"I swear to the Maker, Isabela."

"Get _up._"

"Don't make me kill you."

"We've got work to do."

"We do _not_," I whined as she finally succeeded in snatching the covers away.

"We _do,_" she assured me happily. "Merrill told me something last night," she continued, and I growled.

"When you were getting her _murdered_ in an alleyway?" I asked viciously. She nodded, unperturbed.

"There's a kid," she started, and I shut out her voice. I didn't do kids. Standing, I worked the cricks in my neck, suddenly rethinking my brilliant idea of sleeping on the floor last night.

_Note to self: Never do it again. Ever. Never, ever, never ever._

"I hate kids, Isabela," I sighed, stretching and wiggling my hair. I needed to cut it again - I didn't wiggle it so much when it was freshly cut. "And I was going to do some important stuff today," I defended at her questioning look.

She coughed, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. I stared at her until she finished her hacking.

"What can I say? I'm allergic to bullshit."

I rolled my eyes. "It isn't bullshit."

"Then what were you planning to do?"

_Sleep. A bubble bath. Harassing Fenris. A bubble bath _with _Fenris _while _harassing him. Sleeping with Fenris after a bubble bath with him while harassing…_

"Stuff."

"Right. Well, this is better stuff." She continued to recount the story of the alienage half-breed Dalish elf who had experienced some bad dreams.

"So?" I asked, shrugging out of yesterday's sticky clothes and rummaging through my clean supply. "What does any if it have to do with me?"

Isabela sighed. "Have you not been listening? The kid's an _apostate_," she exaggerated the word.

"My sister was an _apostate_," I mocked. "Again: What does this have to do with _me?_ Why did you wake me up so early?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Hawke, it's after noon. You've slept the day away. I thought this would be a reasonable time."

"_Noon_?" I asked, halting my search. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly," she said, grinning. "Put some clothes on. You're turning me on."

"The _breeze_ turns you on, Isabela." Finding clothes quickly after her comment, I donned a loose-fitting white blouse and some breeches, wondering when society would force me to wear a skirt again.

I found that I liked being a rebel. Until Lothering was attacked, a woman wearing a man's clothes was rejected as the foulest thing imaginable.

It's amazing how a few darkspawn can reconfigure the common man's perception of "foul".

Ever since we arrived in the Free Marches, no one even questioned my choice of clothes. I hoped that would remain the case, since I had grown quite fond of the freedom of movement pants provided.

"And what, exactly, am I expected to do?" I asked as I followed the trail of my armor into the foyer, picking up loose knives and other weapons along the way.

I really needed a maid to clean up after me.

"Fuck if I know," Isabela offered, shrugging. "I just heard about it. It seemed the kind of do-gooder mission you usually do. Plus, there could be a coin reward."

When this didn't sway me, she had to add, "You've already saved the boy once."

I groaned. "Who?"

"Feny…ral," she scrunched her nose. "No, that's not right - something like it, though. Some half-elf kid."

"Feynriel," I supplied, surprised to recognize the name.

"That's the one!" She snapped her fingers, pleased. Her breasts jiggled a little with her movements, and I was simultaneously jealous and impressed by the sight. If I wore low-cut blouses as she did, would mine be as prominent? Or was that just her? "His mother said something to Merrill, Merrill told me, I told you…"

"What do they want _me _to do about some bad dreams?" I wondered aloud, thinking through it.

Mages were always more susceptible to demons, weren't they? It's why Fenris hated them, why everyone feared them, why they were kept in check. The Fade was a realm where only magi could go to augment their powers, but you could enter the Fade while in dreams, right?

Oh, hell.

"Go tell his mother to get the Dalish Keeper and fetch Merrill," I told Isabela, already planning. "I'll go get Fenris."

She clapped her hands together. "Wonderful! I knew you'd come around."

This day was going to be much longer than I had anticipated.

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><p>Fenris, Isabela, and Merrill accompanied me to the Fade, and I hated two-thirds of them by the time I exited it. Merrill waited for me on the other side, a sympathetic look on her face.<p>

"I hope we never have to do anything like that again." She pulled me into a swift hug, her tiny body barely detectable between her robes and my armor.

Seriously, how did the girl survive so long? She was so _small_. No wonder she never tried hand-to-hand combat.

I hugged her back with one arm, sighing. "Where is the Keeper?"

Feynriel's mother jumped when she saw we had awoken. "Hawke! My son, is he-"

"He'll be fine." I explained the situation to her, told her Feynriel planned to go away to study. She was upset he was leaving, but happy he was growing.

Sheesh. Oxymoronic woman - could she not make up her mind?

"Where have my other companions gone?" I asked her as the Keeper took her leave.

Feynriel's mother - I will be damned if I could remember her name - told me they had both awoken and left as soon as they realized they were lucid before us. I growled underneath my breath, refused her offers of money, and ditched Merrill.

"But Hawke -"

"Go _home_, Merrill," I snapped, in no mood for her foolishness. She bit her lip, turning away and nodding. I instantly felt bad for the snub, and resolved myself to apologize for it later when I was in better humor.

"I'm going to kick their asses," I muttered to myself darkly. I would expect betrayal from Isabela, the flighty land-locked pirate, but _Fenris?_

"_Leave him alone," I yelled at the demon. "He's just a child - he doesn't _want_ this power."_

"_Everyone wants power," the demon scoffed. "You think the slave wouldn't abandon you, given the chance to rise to power?"_

_Fenris stepped up beside me, disgust on his face. "I'm no slave, and I'm no fool: cast your eyes elsewhere, demon. You will have no affect on me."_

"_I feel your fear, elf. You may call yourself a free man, but the mages have left their marks on your body and mind. Could you imagine a world without fear? Where you would be _truly _free, instead of living in ignorance?"_

_Fenris cocked his head, and I already knew what was going through his head._

"_Hell no," I told Fenris firmly. "Don't even _think _about it."_

_Of course, no one ever listened to me._

"_What would you require of me?" he asked the demon in a sour voice._

"_Just a moment of your time," the demon purred._

"_Fenris, I _will _kick your ass," I informed him in a snarl. "Do. Not. Do this."_

"_I would be an equal," he implored, a hunger in his eyes._

"_An equal!" I spat. "You would be _just like them._"_

"_I'm sorry." His apology preceeded him as he drew his sword._

_That was when I began cussing._

Thinking about it made my skin crawl in anger, and I suddenly had the strong desire to hit something. A helpless wall bore the brunt of my righteous rage as I continued to stew, and I shook the pain out of my fingers.

_For all my talk, the hardest thing I could recall doing was plunging my blades into his chest. He gasped as he fell, and my eyes widened at what I had done._

"_Fenris!" I shouted, dropping to my knees and wrapping my arms around him tightly. He shuddered and cried out in pain, surprise covering his face as he disappeared._

_I blinked, suddenly remembering his aversion to touch. "Great," I muttered. "You think you're doing something good and you wind up hurting him more." I shook my head at myself. "Brilliant, Hawke. Just brilliant."_

That moment, the brief touch, gave me a fiendish idea.

These…_feelings_ I was having, were they mirrored by him? What if they weren't? I couldn't be sure, after today in the Fade. After his betrayal.

Isabela was closer, and I knew I should speak to her sometime, but I could not rest until I had settled the matter with Fenris - and perhaps slapped him a few times, as well.

The thought of slapping him brought back up my new idea - I couldn't act on it though, not yet.

Priorities, and all.

The neighborhood was silent as I crept over to the window, dropping in as I had seen him do so many times before. Picking the lock would have required too much effort, and I didn't care if he heard me enter or not.

He wouldn't attack. Not after today.

I found him in the study. He was bent over in a chair, head in his palms, wine glass at his feet.

For the longest time, neither of us said anything. I stood in the doorway, watching him sulk, unmoving.

"Hawke," he said, voice cracking. He cleared his throat, raising his head. "I-"

My hand shot up and I silenced him. "I should kill you," I threatened, dropping my sword to the side. He nodded in agreement.

"You should," he confimed, dropping his head.

"I should tell you not to contact me again," I continued. "Once the ass-kicking is said and done."

"That would be best," he whispered, running a lyrium-covered hand through his white hair.

"But I won't," I emphasized these words. His eyes roved towards mine, the emerald irises declaring his shock. "Because you're going to have a wonderful explanation ready that will make me forget you ever even considered trusting a demon."

His head collapsed again. "I…don't."

"What was that?" I asked loudly, walking over to him and kicking his wine bottle across the room. It clunked against a rotting oak chair anti-climactically. "I don't believe I heard you."

"There is no explanation I could give that would do the situation justice," he spat, voice hard. "So just fucking leave."

"No," I said simply, sitting down in the chair across from him.

"No?" His head shot up, eyes angry. "_Leave_."

I crossed my legs, threading my fingers together patiently. "I won't."

"It's _my_ house." His voice blazed. "If I want you out of it, you will _get out of it_."

"It isn't your house," I pointed out. "And you don't really want me to leave."

"Don't I?" he retorted. "You said it yourself: it was what you should do."

"I should," I admitted. "But I won't."

"Why?" he snarled. "Why not? I _betrayed_ your trust - my only companion - and for what? A _demon?_" He stood, pacing about the room and fisting his hands at his side. "I'm despicable. As you said, I am no better than the magister who branded his marks into my flesh. I'm no better than my _Master_."

"You aren't," I agreed amiably, enjoying his squirming. He could beat himself up better than I ever could, I'd give him that. "Though I have a few qualms about the present-tense use of that title."

"What?" His face was momentarily confused.

I stood up, calmly making my way over to him. He flinched at my nearness. "He isn't your master any longer, Fenris," I told him seriously. "And I forgive you."

"You…" He looked even more confused, staring blankly at my face. "What? Why?"

"One, because I can see you realize the mistake you made," I said wryly, gesturing to the torn books and upended table. He grimaced. "Two…" I trailed off, concentrating on his face for a moment. Would he mind? Would he reject my affections?

It was _impossible _to tell with him. We barely got along together when we first met, and now I looked forward to his company more than anything.

"Two?" he pressed gently.

"I couldn't stay angry." It slipped before I could weigh the repercussions. "Fenris, I enjoy your company. I considered cutting you off, beating the shit out of you, even burning down the mansion," I told him, watching his face for any sign of disgrace or anger. He wore a mask, hiding whatever emotion he must have felt, waiting for me to continue. "But the more I thought about it, the more ridiculous it all seemed to be.

"Fenris, you just made a _mistake_," I assured him. "He was a demon. You're unpracticed in dealing with demons - which you should _never do_," I raised my eyebrows, impressing the point upon him. "I _like_ you, Fenris. It's a definite accomplishment; I usually hate people on sight." I smiled a little, but he didn't move. "As I considered each alternative, I imagined what it would be like to be without your company, to stop spending my nights with you. I despised the mere thoughts."

I shook my head. "You may be an infuriating, paranoid asshole, but I can't reward a fault with a fault."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I _forgive you,_ dumbass."

* * *

><p><strong>Does anyone even read author's notes?<strong>


	3. Timid Touch

**Disclaimer: ****These characters came from Bioware-land. I took advantage of them for the purpose of this story.**

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><p><strong>I have five reviewers that read author's notes. Without you guys, I would believe myself to be crazy.<strong>

**(I still think I'm terminally insane, but whatevs. It just means I ain't alone.)**

**On a more serious note: This chapter is a day early, but one of the shortest chapters I've ever written. Ever. EVER. Not just for this story. EVER. So, it comes early and is too short for enjoyment - much like my last guy-friend, if I think about it.**

**Chapter Three: Timid Touch**

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><p><em>In a gentle way, you can shake the world. <em>

_Ghandi_

It was like every other night - Fenris and I were sprawled across his floor, simultaneously too close and not close enough, both stuck in a book and lost.

Well, _he_ was lost in a book. The more I tried to ignore his presence, the more he seemed to scream the awareness at me.

Four years. Within the last four years, I had only touched him once. It was barely considered a touch, really, as it had happened in the Fade: a land of dreams.

And I dreamed about it.

_Oh, did I dream about it._

I dreamed about licking that trail up his neck, down his chest, running my hands through his hair, down his arms…

Okay, so I wanted to touch him.

_Badly_.

And tonight, I was going to make my move.

He was _so _close.

Within reach, one might say.

I would barely have to shift.

Just one twitch..

"You've been quiet," Fenris observed, breaking the acute silence. I jumped, startled by the sudden sound. His green eyes met mine, amused at my skittish reaction.

"Yeah," I mumbled, glaring at the floor and cursing my own idiocy.

"Any reason in particular?"

"Are you complaining?" I asked, directing my full attention at my book.

"I suppose I am," Fenris said, dipping his head and smirking, and when I looked up, I noticed a distinct _smoldering_ in his eyes.

Blinking, I had to redirect my attention before I lost my head completely. "I thought my chatter annoyed you," I said offhandedly.

"What's wrong?" he asked, leaning in closer. "You seem tense."

_Now or never, Hawke. Now or never._

"I, ah," I swallowed, hating this momentary embarrassment. Really, it wasn't so much to ask from him. "I wanted to ask you something." It _wasn't_. Maybe he even _wanted_ to be touched.

My face and neck flushed as that stray thought sunk in. All these years, trapped in armor, never being touched...

I shook my head, fighting with myself. _This isn't one of Tethras' novels, Hawke. This is Fenris. Stop being so perverted and take it slow._

"Ask me something?" he seemed surprised. He sat up, leaning against the wall. His eyes danced in the firelight as he watched me reluctantly move into my own erect position.

"Yes," I said, nodding but saying nothing more.

"Are you going to ask?" Fenris finally prompted. I sighed.

"I don't know how you'll react," I cautioned. "But it's been something on my mind…"

"Then I want to hear it," he argued, crossing his legs and rolling the kinks from his neck. "Don't worry about offending me." His mouth twitched a bit. "I believe us to be beyond that."

I hummed in agreement, staring at my hands and carefully considering which words I would choose to express my desire to him. "I was wondering…" I swallowed, shifting my hair about my head. "Do the…markings…are they the reason you don't want to be touched?"

I kept my eyes firmly on my hands.

"Is this really what's been bothering you?" he asked, surprised.

I shrugged.

We sat for a while, before he cleared his throat and spoke a small, "Yes." More silence. "Is that all?"

_Of course it isn't_. "No," I hesitated. _This was an awful idea_. "It was more to do with… would you be totally against the idea of…_me_ touching you?" I raised my eyes to watch him look away.

Were we _children_? We were regular adults! Why wasn't this easier?

It _was_ a disgusting idea to him, after all. I imagined kicking myself. _You shouldn't take advantage of -_

"I won't say I haven't thought about it."

_Oh, my_. The argument I was having with myself promptly ceased as my mind went slightly blank, and my heart began to thunder in my chest as it registered the lower octave his voice embraced when he spoke the sentence.

"I just keep remembering the Fade…" I trailed off, hoping he would meet my gaze again. "The look on your face when I grabbed onto you…" I sighed. "I just want to know if it would be possible for you to become accustomed to touch."

He finally turned back to me, the mask firmly in place. "What do you mean?"

I grinned, scooting closer to him. He flattened himself against the wall, eyes widening. "I mean," I said, my hand creeping towards him. "Now that you've become so…adept in reading, I thought we could have _another_ extracurricular activity would could engage ourselves in."

I aimed for that thin strip of lyrium that snaked behind his ear, the one I had fantasized about constantly-

-before his hand shot out and grasped mine firmly, the metal of his armored gloves encasing me in coldness. I didn't know if my disappointment showed, but when his eyes flickered across my face, the harsh look left his expression, leaving a mild and uncertain one in its wake.

"I…don't know," he said, sounding unsure. "It isn't something I take very lightly. It's…painful."

"I understand." And I did. There was pain - pain the magister caused by marking him so savagely. That didn't mean he had to live his entire life with a disability, this fear of being touched. "And I won't push," I assured. "I just want to try."

He sighed, and I felt his warm breath on my cheek. Closing his eyes, he released my hand and pulled his arm back, holding a finger up to stop me from making any other movements.

I watched as he tugged off the claws that encased his fingers, stripping them off delicately. I could tell he didn't do this often, as he was reluctant to set down his protection. Soon, the entire expanse of his arms were free and the naked skin was calling to me.

"How does it hurt?" I asked curiously.

"It burns," he replied simply. "Similar to being torched with flame." At my horrified look, he hastily tried to annul my fears. "It isn't so bad in places where the lyrium isn't etched onto me."

I heard what was unspoken: _but I'd give five sovereigns to anyone who can find where those places are._

I clearly had my work cut out for me, and appreciated the chance he was offering.

_Don't fuck this up, Hawke._

My fingers twitched towards him, and his arms tensed.

I sighed. This would get us nowhere.

"Fenris." His eyes were unwavering on mine, but his fists still clenched. "Relax, all right?" I spoke slowly, deliberately. I would give him no reason to fear my touch. "If it's too much, I promise I'll stop. I don't want to hurt you," I assured.

He didn't look appeased, but painstakingly stretched his fingers at my request. My hand crept a little further.

"Has anyone ever tried to touch you?" I asked, trying to divert his attention.

"Not really." Fenris struggled, fighting with his instincts. "At least, not like this." He took a deep breath. "My Master would only touch me when touch was required, and it was usually only required when he needed the lyrium." He laughed dryly, flinging his head back and resting it against the wall. My eyes feasted on the flesh of his neck. "Or if he thought I needed a beating. Neither were pleasant experiences for me. If there was anything before them, it is lost to me."

When my fingers came in contact with his skin, a jolt traveled through him, shock crossing his face. I didn't pull back, though. I rested my fingers on his fist gently, barely brushing against his pale skin as he adjusted.

He stared at where we touched, his hands trembling slightly.

"Are you okay?" I asked, leaning forward to see his face. He tilted his head up and nodded, exhaling in a gust.

"I'll be fine." His voice was rough.

"Do you want me to stop?"

He shook his head, and I pressed until more of my skin came into contact with his. Fenris shivered as I traced the lines of lyrium on his hand, ghosting over the marks with my fingers.

I had never thought of hands being sensual before, but now? Now, as I barely touched the long, lithe fingers and skimmed across the stark white lines, I couldn't help but release an involuntary shiver of my own for a completely different reason.

"Does it hurt?" I wondered, bringing my other hand up to cup his hand in both of mine.

"Yes." His voice was rough, his eyes burning through mine with intensity as I cradled his hand to me, breaking eye-contact only to lean down and press my lips to his palm.

"Badly?" It was unfair - how could I enjoy something that brought him pain?

"No," the monosyllabic answer was gasped as I licked my tongue lightly over the line of lyrium, the taste of copper and salt and _Fenris_ entering my mouth.

"Hawke," he whispered, eyes longing.

"Yes?"

"It's getting late," he informed thinly.

"Do I have to leave?" I asked him, genuinely interested in the answer. Did he want me to go?

"Only if your mother will miss you." His small smile made me grin, and I slowly released his palm.

"You know," I said, standing and offering a steady hand to him. He regarded it warily before grasping it and allowing me to pull him up, which widened my smile even further. "I don't think she'll miss me for one night," I confided.

"If you're certain," he stated, "then I doubt I would be a strong enough man to deny you anything you wish."

"Anything I wish?" I taunted, clasping his hand.

"Anything," Fenris said harshly, leaning over me, all angles and hard planes. The lust stood out in the forests of his eyes, begging me to ask him for _anything_.

It was nearly too much to resist; the haggard word, the pressing, the desire. I almost couldn't refuse.

But I was a master planner, and I had already made my decision. "I think we should just go rest," I said gently, pulling him up the stairs to the bedroom. Disappointment lurked in his gaze as he registered the resignation in my tone, but I knew he understood that I wasn't interested in rushing into a relationship with him. I was no Isabela; if we were going to have sex, it wouldn't be some random event I would regret in the morning.

Tonight, we would be simple.

Tomorrow, all bets were off.

* * *

><p><strong>What book would you want Fenris to read to you?<strong>


	4. Broody Babies

**Do I have to keep putting a disclaimer up here? You all get the idea, right? None of these guys are mine.**

**You guys have very odd book choices - diverse, too. One wants Fenris to read a book about bunnies, another wants to hear a horror novel. I want to hear him read "The Haunted Vagina".**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four: Broody Babies<strong>

_Anyone can be passionate, but it takes real lovers to be silly. _

_Rose Franken_

"What happened to your hands?" he whispered in the dark, his fingers tracing the roughness on my knuckles where the blood had clotted.

"I punched a wall the other night," I explained, remembering the satisfying smack when my hand struck cement. "I was pretty pissed."

Fenris chuckled, continuing the path up my arm. "What did the wall do to make you so angry?"

"Oh, it wasn't the wall," I supplied. "It was this annoying, broody elf who never takes my advice…"

He groaned. "All right, all right." His fingers danced up my arms. "I get it: I'm an ass."

"Ladies and gentlemen, he _can_ be taught."

His armor clanked as he laughed, and I wondered how uncomfortable it must be to sleep in it.

"Do you always sleep in your armor?" I asked.

"You are very curious, for a human."

"Humans know very little."

"How right you are."

I glared at him until he laughed quietly again. "I _know_ I'm an ass. I may as well not pretend to be any different."

I laughed at him and his fingers flicked my skin on their way up to my neck.

"Most nights the armor stays," Fenris admitted, tracing my ear with the tip of his index finger. "I'm too vulnerable without it."

I pursed my lips. We would have to work on that, as well. I sighed inwardly, counting up the issues Fenris had: Touching, mages, wearing his armor every second of the day, feeling weak…

He was getting better, it was true; the real accomplishment wasn't that he was caressing me, it was that his hands and arms were naked. Still, we had come far and had even further to go before his mind was healed.

"You seem happier tonight," I whispered into the dark. "Why?"

"More questions." He sighed, dropping his hand to the mattress. "Hawke, I haven't laid on a mattress since I awoke in my Master's dungeon. There have been many 'firsts' for me tonight."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. "You've been here for four years and never just…went to sleep on the bed?"

The bed dipped as he shrugged nonchalantly. "It never made much of a difference to me. I also never touched someone for pleasure before tonight," he pointed out.

_Don't remind me_, I thought disparagingly. _I'm not above tearing off your armor._

"Never felt the urge?" I raised my eyebrows suggestively.

"I wouldn't say that," he contradicted lightly. "Most people couldn't get by the scowl."

My mouth gaped. "Was that self-deprecating humor I heard?"

Mocking or not, it surprised me.

He groaned. "Go to sleep, Hawke."

"Or what?" I taunted, wanting to get another rise out of him. "You'll _brood_ at me?"

"Your jokes are awful," he retorted. "If you spent more time working on your comebacks and less time punching walls-"

"Good night, Fenris," I laughed, finding his hand and pulling it into my soft shirt. I hoped he wouldn't mind me capturing it for one night; I held it close, snuggling my cheek into the firm flesh as I finally closed my eyes.

"Good night, Hawke," Fenris replied in a low voice.

I was gone.

* * *

><p>Reality came too early the next morning.<p>

Aveline had come calling to give Fenris a heads-up on a situation out on the Wounded Coast; she was also most likely going to suggest they go find _me_ to lead their sorry asses out in the expedition.

She didn't find just Fenris, though.

She found Fenris and Hawke.

Alone.

In _bed_.

And strangely enough, wearing armor.

She didn't even _ask_. Her mouth just fell open as she stared at us.

That's when I awoke: the moment she began staring.

"Hi," I regarded her coolly.

She regained control of her lolling tongue and her jaw snapped back into place. "Slumber party?" she asked, shaking her head. "We have a word for this in the guard."

"Aveline, so help me-"

"_Hot_," she said, suppressing laughter. I sighed, leaning up. Fenris had awoken shortly after, disoriented and with quite a sharp blade in hand, and Aveline told us the story about some group causing trouble on the coast.

I wasn't surprised; everyone and their mother found a way to stir up trouble on the coast. It was ridiculous.

"Do we _have_ to?" I complained, swatting Fenris's weapon away sleepily. He blinked at me, and then at Aveline, dumbfounded.

"How did you get in here?" he asked finally, apparently deciding we weren't assassins attempting to kill him.

She raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware you even _tried_ to make this place private." Her hands reached up, pulling at the tassel tied around her head. "The window hangs wide open; I took it as an invitation." She eyed me, a twinkle in her eye. "Though it looks as if you already have company. Should I go?"

"You should," I groused.

She ignored me and crossed her arms. "Those raiders need to be dealt with before sundown, and I've got work to do here in town." Aveline glared at the both of us. "That leaves my trusty pal _Hawke_ to smooth things over."

"Nosy redhead," I mumbled under my breath.

"Childish brat."

I groaned, wiping my face with my hand. "I'll get Anders. Fenris, go get Varric. We'll rendezvous in Hightown…somewhere." I waved my hand vaguely. "Take your time."

"Thatta girl," Aveline giggled at my ill-humor, and I promptly flipped her off before sliding out of bed.

* * *

><p>"Why am <em>I<em> always the one to organize these things?" I complained, trudging through the sand and rocks of the Wounded Coast. The sand was thick, blowing into my face in a decidedly irritating manner. I scowled throughout the entire trek as we climbed to an increasingly higher altitude. "_Any_ of you lazy assholes could do this; why did she come to _me_?"

"Technically, she came to _me_," Fenris said, carefully avoiding the edge of the cliff we were stepping around, and I grunted in frustration.

"There's a trap there," I snapped, causing everyone to roll their eyes. As a rogue, it was my duty to call out where a trap was, yes? We didn't want someone snapping their leg off, right?

_Why_ did they all roll their eyes at me when I said something to them?

"We can _see_, Hawke," said Varric good-naturedly. Stupid dwarf. Everything about him was good-natured. "You don't have to point out the obvious ones."

I suddenly really, really hated him.

"Let her be, dwarf," Fenris warned. "She operates poorly when she doesn't sleep well."

"Keep her up last night, did you?" Varric joked.

_He did, actually_, I wanted to sneer, but held my tongue. I knew Fenris was right; I was behaving like rubbish.

"And Hawke," Fenris directed to me, ignoring Varric, "we _do_ have eyes."

I glared at him, a snarl in my throat.

You are not an animal, Hawke. You are a Hightown noblewoman. Act like it.

I turned up my nose and trotted forward, completely disregarding the trap Fenris was about to step onto. His nice, shiny armor would protect him, anyways.

Fucking armor.

_Snap._

The piercing cry of surprise echoed off of the unforgiving rocks, the sound bouncing back magnified in our ears. I flinched, whirling around in fear only to giggle at Fenris's face.

The claw was clamped around his armor in a painful manner, but I knew it wasn't anything horrible. The sinister jaws crunched dents into the finely-crafted surface, and little pinpricks of blood trickled down his ankle.

He looked very, _very_ pissed.

"Why didn't you warn me?" he shouted. "If my armor had shifted, I could have lost my leg!"

I snorted. That was rich. "I thought you had _eyes_. You don't _need _my warnings."

Varric howled in laughter, shifting Bianca. "Would you look at that?" he said to his beloved crossbow. "Hawke has some spite in her."

I rolled my eyes at his antics and knelt down in front of Fenris. Anders quietly approached, his fingers twitching as he prepared to heal if necessary.

Varric joined me, and we both readied our hands on either side of the bear trap.

I counted to three, and we yanked it open, Anders pulling out Fenris's armor-clad foot. He applied healing magic, but it didn't require much of it.

"Thank you, Anders," I said politely, knowing Fenris wouldn't show gratitude towards a mage. Anders nodded at me with a smile and I helped Fenris stand. "Want to keep your _eyes open_, now?"

He grumbled and I turned around, laughing exuberantly. The sand was coarse, the sun was hot, but my day didn't seem so bad anymore. It wasn't _my_ foot that had been caught in a trap.

Things were looking up. My legs weren't sore from all the walking yet, so I set off with renewed vigor, stomping up the coastline.

_Snap_.

My eyes widened.

"_MOTHER FUC_-"

* * *

><p>"I'm <em>not<em> pouting," I pouted.

"Your lip is poking out," Anders observed. I stuck my tongue out at him, and he snickered, shaking his head. His blonde ponytail shuffled behind his neck, which made me want to pull back my own too-short hair. I missed my long hair. His was _so pretty_ - how did he keep it that way? Why didn't it ever get tangled?

I was now jealous of Anders' ponytail.

He picked up a bag of mage-made ice, placing it atop my propped-up leg. I hissed.

"Sorry," he said, sounding genuine. "But you should have been paying attention."

I sighed as he chided me. "I know, I know. I should be more cautious."

"You should," he advised. "I wouldn't want to lose you." His smile was infectious. "Especially not to something like a _trap_."

"I'm a terrible rogue," I moped. I nearly lost my foot to a bear trap, of all things. _That_ would have been embarrassing.

"No, you're not," he soothed. "You were only caught off guard." I heard the soft crackling of magic as he mended my leg, pulling the bones back together and sewing my wounds shut. "I want you to stay off of this tonight."

"I can do that." I leaned back in my chair, staring up at my high ceiling and forcing my thoughts away from what Anders was doing to my leg.

Magic could heal; Anders was the prime example of an empathic mage, healing before fighting. He volunteered to take me home and heal me instead of finding the raiders and the consequent bloodbath, something Fenris and Varric couldn't do.

Delicate as healing magic was, there was the other side of the spectrum within the art. Magic could taint, wound, and inflict massive amounts of pain; Fenris was the perfect example of _that_. The scarring of his flesh (however attractive it was) caused him daily agony and there were deep wounds in his psyche from the process of lacing the webs of lyrium across his body. Magic couldn't undo what had been done to him; magic couldn't cure his hate of mages.

I sighed. I couldn't understand why I was drawn to Fenris; he was taciturn and a perpetual grouch. I couldn't touch him the way I wanted without hurting him; I couldn't share emotions with him for fear of crumbling his sanity completely.

Teaching him how to be a person and not an angry ex-slave would be a long, grueling process, but I couldn't say it wouldn't be worth it.

"Hawke?" his voice filtered from nearby. "How's the leg?"

I didn't bother opening my eyelids. "Back so soon?"

He sat down in the chair next to mine, the sound amplified in the empty room. "They weren't so tough. Plus, Anders sent Merrill and Isabella to take your places."

I hadn't even noticed Anders left. Did that make me a bad person? "Did you tell Aveline?"

"Merrill did."

We sat in silence, the crackling fire the only sound in the room.

"I see you aren't bleeding anymore," Fenris noted.

"You'll see yourself bleeding if you don't direct your attention from my foot," I threatened.

He chuckled, and I heard a creak as he shifted his weight. "I have a feeling you didn't sleep well last night."

"I was trying not to stab myself on one of your spikes."

"Does my armor bother you so much?" he asked, voice low and quiet.

I exhaled through my nose. "I know why you wear it," I said wearily. "It's just…frustrating."

"Who am I to deny an injured woman?" he mused. There was a brief silence that was ended with a loud, muffled "thump". I opened my eyes briefly, slightly shocked when I saw Fenris in the clothes he wore underneath his armor - _why didn't I ever notice he wore clothes under his armor?_ Lean and muscular, his body was fit and laced with white tattoos that were hidden underneath the green tunic and pants he wore.

He narrowed his eyes playfully when I was caught staring. "You're making me blush," he said, walking closer to me. He placed a hand on my shoulder, only appearing slightly unnerved by his lack of armor.

"How's the foot?" he asked.

I shrugged, unable to tear my gaze away from him.

"Good enough to move?"

I shrugged again. Hell if I know. In fact, the only thing I was positively _sure_ of was that I didn't want any more distance between the two of us.

He seemed to agree. Strong arms encircled me, lifting me up gently so as to not stir my foot.

"Fenris, I can probably walk," I complained mildly. "You don't have to bear my weight."

"My sword weighs more than you," he countered. "And I don't want you to be in pain."

I bit my lip, thinking about that. He was in pain every _minute_ because of the lyrium burned into his skin, and he bore the increased pain of carrying me for _my_ comfort.

He was sacrificing himself for me. Tears filled my eyes, and I fought to keep them at bay as he ascended the staircase.

Fenris hummed as the bed came into view, setting me down gingerly and taking a set beside me. His eyes roved over my face when alarm flashed across his.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sounding ready to punch someone. "Are you hurt? Is it your leg?"

I shook my head, feeling foolish. "No, I…"

"You're _crying_." His mouth hung open slightly, half a smile twitching on his lips. "I didn't think you _could_ cry."

"Shut up," I sobbed, barely remembering from where the tears had come. What the hell? "You didn't…have to…do this."

"Stop crying," he commanded. "There's no reason for you to cry." He seemed dumbfounded. "You've had worse injuries, and no one has died recently…" he trailed off, and I pressed my palms to my forehead.

He exhaled through his nose, a determined gleam in his eye. "This is ridiculous, Hawke." Leaning over me, he pressed my back into the bed, towering over my crying face with a serious expression. Pressing in further, I was a little astonished to feel the light pressure of his lips on my tear-streaked cheeks. "Do I need to distract you?"

I immediately stopped breathing to quell the sobs that tried to shake me, but they still welled up in my chest, a dam nearly bursting. I nodded my head slowly, hiccupping.

He dragged his lips across my eyes, down my cheeks, and to my lips, where he placed a soft kiss on the heart of my mouth. His hair brushed against my forehead as he backed away from me. "I'm afraid of heights," he confessed, smiling a little. "I hated being on the cliffs today, especially without you."

"You...you're afraid of heights?" I asked, biting my lip to hold back the tears.

"Deathly," he shared, rubbing my arms. "But I climb them for you. I would do anything for you, Hawke. You need only to ask."

My skin singed at his touch, and I turned my face into his neck, feeling him swallow thickly. His confession and pledge took my shortened breath away, and my tears leaked onto his shoulder.

"Why are you even crying, anyway?" his husky voice asked into my ear.

"It's stupid," I replied, shuddering.

"How stupid?"

"You'll think _I'm_ stupid."

"Try me," he dared. "I'm afraid of heights, remember?"

I huffed. "It was because…well…you're sacrificing your pain to save my pain!" I blurted, feeling morose. "You carried me here, you discarded your armor...you're out of your comfort zone, and it's _my_ fault!"

He stared at me for a moment, his green eyes wide and scrutinizing.

Then the mischief slowly crept back into them, along with a softer, lighter green tone.

"You're right. That _is _stupid."

* * *

><p>The rest of the night passed quickly once I snuggled into Fenris; it was much easier to do now that he had shed his despicable armor. His body was warm, pliant, and strong as he wrapped himself around me, mindful of my leg.<p>

I also stopped crying, feeling like a fool once the magic's side-effects had worn off - because that's what it _had_ to be. A side-effect of the healing magic Anders worked on my leg.

Fenris assured me he would never let me live it down.

"A woman who didn't cry when her only home burned to the ground," Varric listed, "who didn't cry when she had to kill her sister. She doesn't even shed a tear when she gets a gaping wound, yet she cried because you spent the night with her?" He laughed. "Damn, elf boy, you must be terrible."

"It was the magic," I declared, fighting the urge to smack him. "I _never_ get emotional."

"It sounds like 'never' already happened, sweetie," Varric retorted.

"I also said I'd never hit a person shorter than me, but if 'never' already happened…"

"I hear you, I hear you. Spreading the hate. You know, Hawke, you should work on your people skills. People like to hear stories about fierce, strong heroines, but you have to have a softer side for them to hang around for longer than…"

"I don't _care_ about your damn stories!" I cried, interrupting him. "Get me a drink," I growled at the barmaid, who scampered away. "It's not like you don't lie through all of them."

"Now, now," he soothed, grinning like a hyena. "That's just the magic talking, eh?"

"I'm going to kill you."

I felt Fenris tense beside me, and turned to inspect his problem.

Ah. Anders had just walked in.

"Feeling better, Hawke?" he greeted, waving away the barmaid after she set my drink on the table.

"Now that the magic has worn off," Varric inserted.

Anders raised an eyebrow. "The magic?"

"Yes," I said in a hard tone. "The magic."

"She was very emotional last night."

"Shut _up_, Varric."

"Oh!" Anders snapped his fingers. "Sorry; the magic doesn't always affect people. I thought you would be immune to it." He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I should have warned you."

I sighed. "I'm just glad it's the magic's fault and I'm not going bat shit."

"You're already bat shit," Varric offered, downing his drink.

"Do you want me to take another look at your leg?" Anders asked helpfully.

Fenris stood, shouldering his blade. He walked out, waving goodbye to us as he left.

It was a little weird; but then again, this was Fenris.

Women fell out of their seats to get a better look at him as he passed. Hell, _I _was falling out of my seat to watch him walk away.

Varric shook his head. "I bet _they'd _have his broody babies."

"You should lay off him," I suggested, taking a sip of my drink, beginning to feel a slight buzz. "He's had a rough time."

Varric chuckled. "All the more reason to barrage him with humor; trust me, Hawke. It's all good and fun - both of which he could use."

I sighed, recognizing how true the statement was. I scooted over, allowing Anders room into the booth.

"What brings you here?" I asked him. "We usually don't see you in the Hanged Man."

"You and your 'greater good'," Varric quipped. "I'm surprised you know how to deal with people outside of stitching them up. You staying in Darktown, and all. No wonder you're so pale. You should come with us to the Coast more often; it would do you some good."

"I'll be fine, thanks," Anders said dryly. "I actually came to pick up some alcohol for sterilization purposes."

"It's nice to see you, regardless," I offered with a smile. "And thank you for helping me."

He shook his head. "No need to thank me, Hawke." He gave me a short, one-armed hug and nodded at Varric before he took his leave.

"He's such a decent guy," I commented as he approached the bar for his alcohol.

"Yeah, _decent_," Varric huffed. "I can't get a _decent_ joke out of him, he's so _decent_. Alcohol for _sterilization_ purposes. Pheh."

I giggled at him. "Oh, Dwarf; you always know how to make me smile."

"You might want to leave," Varric warned.

I blinked my eyes at his sudden change in demeanor. "Why?"

"Isabela is coming over."

"Son of a _bitch._"

* * *

><p>Isabela harassed me for a while until I finally let her off the hook for abandoning me; I really don't think she felt bad for it, and would do it again, should the opportunity arise. She didn't even get the damn boat she was promised.<p>

Some company I keep.

"Hawke," Aveline called. I wondered when my named changed from "Marian" - I felt as if _everyone_ called me by my maiden name. I also couldn't decide what I thought of that. "I have another job for you."

"Can this be done by someone else?" I asked, eyebrows already in an upright position and mouth ready to spit venom. "Because I'm kind of tired from the beating I took when doing the _last_ errand you made me run." Well, technically it _wasn't_ a beating, but I was hoping she didn't already know what transpired.

Although, with mouths and ears like Varric and Isabela around, the entire city-state of Kirkwall knew that the infallible rogue named Hawke nearly chopped her leg off because she wasn't paying attention.

"This one might not be as exciting," she hedged. "I need you to go check out this templar named Emeric."

"So, I shouldn't bring Anders," I commented.

"You'll do it?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Of course you do," she said helpfully. "But Emeric has been raving about this killer he claims has been murdering women within the past few years."

"People die all the time," I said. "It doesn't mean their deaths are related."

"Try telling that to _him_," said Aveline, her red ponytail swaying behind her. "Just stop by and see if you can talk to him. If you think he's stark raving mad and there isn't any merit to the story, I'll drop it."

I didn't like where this is going. "How about you come with me?"

"Me?" she asked, glancing at me like I was stark-raving mad. "He won't talk to _me_."

"You could be a buffer," I suggested. "In case I needed some backup in dealing with him."

She sighed. "Oh, all right."

That was the first step I took into the shitpile that was the rest of my life, and I did not even recognize it for what it was:

A bad idea.

* * *

><p><strong>What song would you dance to in Fenris's mansion?<strong>


	5. Fanning Flames

**Okay, I admit it.**

**I deleted a chapter I had written that was snuggled in between this one and chapter four. It was titled New Normal, and it was a short, boring chapter.**

**And it sucked.**

**So, if you want the chapter (God bless you), PM me; but believe me when I say I deleted it for a reason. It added nothing to the story, and the only saving grace was a bit of snark at the end - which was mostly to relieve me of the emo.**

**Anyways, I've got two more filler chapters like this (I.E. chapters that follow the game storyline, more or less) and I may go ahead and post them.**

***crosses fingers* Posting twice in one day depends on how many _reviews_ I get. Js.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five: Fanning Flames<strong>

_A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous._

_Ingrid Bergman_

"What are we up to today, Hawke?" Varric asked, trailing behind me. I laced my fingers behind my head and shrugged.

"I thought about heading out to the coast," I said off-handedly. "The Qunari lost their patrol a while ago, and I still haven't checked it out."

"The Qunari will be getting out of hand soon," Fenris inserted shrewdly. "I'm surprised they haven't begun already."

"We should probably do something about that," Aveline agreed. "Any suggestions, Hawke?"

I sighed, feeling aggravated. "If more people listened to my council, we wouldn't have this problem."

"_I_ listen to you," offered Merrill, her accent dancing around the words. "You're usually right, except when you're wrong. Which, of course, you aren't wrong very often, so I guess it's a wise decision to follow your directions."

"Thank you, Merrill," I said sincerely, but with a distinct note of sarcasm. The only person who listened to me was a harmless elf. "I'll try to remember who's loyal to me when everything goes up in smoke - _which it will_."

"Hey!" protested Varric. "_I'm_ loyal. Just stubborn," he chuckled.

"Well." I walked faster, turning my back to where I was headed so I could face my team. "Who wants to go with me?"

"Where?" asked Isabela, sounding bored.

I glared at her. I _knew_ they didn't listen to me.

"I'm in," Varric chimed. "It's better than wasting away at the bar for another day. Besides, what would you do without me?"

"Probably die a violent, flaming death."

"Couldn't have said it better myself."

Fenris interrupted our banter, saying, "I'll follow you, Hawke."

Aw. How sweet.

"Oh, can I come?" Isabela drawled. "I've been wanting a nice tan."

"Isabela, your skin is naturally brown."

"That's what _you_ think," she replied mysteriously.

I looked to Merrill. "I hoped you would do me a favor."

Merrill smiled, scratching her head. "If you want me to do it, I'll do it, Hawke. Just say the word."

I glanced at Aveline. "Aveline, I want you accompany her. I was hoping you would deal with this nuisance concerning miners - something about spiders. You guys can handles spiders, right?"

Aveline groaned. "I _hate_ spiders."

"Anders doesn't," I said. "Take him, as well."

She glowered at me. "Fine. But you owe me one."

"You already owed _me_ one."

"I thought I appealed to your better nature," she shot back.

"Bitch, I don't _have_ a better nature," I retorted. "You should know better."

"Hawke one, Red zero," Varric chimed in. I shook my head and laughed, pulling Aveline into a one-armed hug. "Let's get moving, shall we?"

We parted ways, and even though we were doing something everyone considered routine, I had a worrisome feeling about this expedition. It felt different than the others; less like a run-and-check, more like something was waiting for us. Could the Qunari be tricking us?

I couldn't be sure. They were honest - brutally honest, even if they sometimes beat around the bush. I couldn't believe they would outright lie to me.

"What's with that look on your face?" Isabela asked, sidling up to me. "You look like you haven't been laid in weeks."

"I haven't been laid in _years_," I pointed out.

She gasped. "But…I thought…_Fenris_." She turned to glare at him, and I caught her arm. "How could you? You haven't gotten this frustrated woman in bed yet?"

"I _have_," he replied, smirking. "I think, however, you have something other than just laying down in mind."

She groaned. "You prick." She looked back to me. "If you want to relieve some tension, I've got a room at the Hanged Man." She tapped her chin thoughfully. "Or I could teach you some seduction techniques. They've been getting me laid and out of trouble for years."

I laughed and shook my head. "I don't think that's necessary, Rivaini."

"Oh, but they're useful!" Isabela insisted. "Like..." She thought a moment. "Copping a stem."

I halted, if only to stare openly at her. "What?"

"Oh, you know," she said, waving her hand. "Gumming a root?"

"I really _don't_ know," I answered, grabbing her hand and walking out of hearing distance of the others.

"Polishing a knob? Swallowing a sword? _Head_?" She ticked these off at the top her-er, head. "I have to say, Hawke, that gets _any_ man to loosen up. The tricky part is finishing - if you have them do it in your mouth, you _have_ to swallow. Spitting is just an unhappy ending; quite like finding a beautiful bit of chocolate on the side of the road only to find it has sand all over it."

"If I found chocolate on the side of the road, I wouldn't put it in my mouth," I informed her, trying not to feel creeped out. This was _Isabela_, after all. I should've expected something lewd.

She groaned. "That's not the _point_. The point is that swallowing is disgusting."

"Why are we even _talking_ about this?"

"Because you need to get laid and this will make sure it happens," she hissed, pulling me closer. She threw her arm over my shoulder and ducked her head next to mine. "So, what I've learned over the years is that if you put his dick at the back of your throat when he's about to-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said, pushing her off me. "We are _not_ talking about this." I glared at her when she opened her mouth again. "I don't ever see myself needing to use this knowledge."

"You never know," she said coyly, grabbing my hand and pulling me back. "You may wish you had heard the end some day."

"I highly doubt it," I replied, biting my lip to keep from showing my smile. Isabela always found a way to make a long walk interesting, that was for sure.

Isabela pulled me close for a second, her lips directly at my ear. "Someday, you'll need it, Hawke. Promise you. Whether it's seducing a man or love or whatever you wish, an empowered woman will always have use of it." She threw her head back and laughed. "And men think it shows they control us. If you hear the pillow talk I've heard..." She shook her head. "Scandelous, I tell you." Her lips pecked my cheek, and I turned to swipe at her with my hand.

Isabela winked and skipped ahead of me, and I rolled my eyes. The pirate would never change, that was for sure. She pulled out a spyglass, hopped atop a rock about 10 yards ahead of us, and scanned the area. Fenris and Varric caught up to me, and we walked over to join her.

"We're almost to the shore," she mumbled to us, then circled the beach. "I'm not seeing any Qunari, but -"

Leaning forward, she squinted further into the glass, concentrating. "_That_ looks like trouble, though." She pointed at the rocks east to us.

"Isabela," I sighed. "You can be frank about sex, but not about an incoming threat?"

"Take a look for yourself," she said flippantly, tossing the contraption at me and hopping off of her rock. She pulled out her knives. "Either way, this will be fun." She gave me a half-grin and vanished.

I jumped onto the rock, lengthening the spyglass and squinting to the east. Then I saw them, and nearly dropped the eyeglass.

"Fenris," I whispered. "They've come for you."

"They-" he sounded confused, and I could almost imagine the words sinking into his tortured skin. He unsheathed his own blade. "I _knew_ it," Fenris spat. "I _knew_ they would come for me, those _bastards._ And to think, I was actually starting to believe-"

"Fenris!" I shouted, pocketing the glass and jumping from the rock in one movement. "Monologue later, fight now!"

He snarled, his skin glowing, and I worry I've said the wrong thing until I realize they've come into view.

I briefly wondered if we could resolve this peacefully.

"Hand over the slave! You are in possession of stolen property!" shouted a mage.

Fuck peace. I wanted to kick the guy in the balls. "He isn't a slave, _jackass_!" I screamed. "Take it back before I shove a knife up your ass!"

"I'm warning you!" the mage yelled back. "Hand over the slave and we won't be forced to kill you!"

"_I am no slave!_" Fenris roared, leaping into battle. I followed, tearing through soldiers with my blades as if they were cheese.

So much for the invincibility of the magister. The fight was pitiful. Fenris was enraged, and he had mowed down half of them before the other half could react. A mage zapped him a little, but Isabela popped into existence and slit his throat.

Breathing heavily, we calmed.

Well, most of us calmed.

"Bastards!" Fenris screamed. I sighed, rubbing my forehead and fighting my growing headache.

Nothing was ever simple, was it?

I hadn't stepped into a trap yet. _That_ was something.

I glanced warily at the ground. _Don't take that as an invitation, all right? I'm not doing something stupid like that again._

"I thought I was _free_!" he continued raving. "I was a _fool_."

I saw him before Fenris did. Still alive, the mage attempted to crawl away from us, crying and shivering on the rough sand. I felt kind of bad for him.

Did I still want to kick his balls?

Fuck yes.

I knew the exact moment Fenris saw him; his head snapped up and he sprinted across the sand, clutched the back of the mage's head, and began beating the shit out of him.

"Where is he?" Fenris demanded, slamming the mage's face into the ground. There was a collective wince in our party.

The mage stumbled through a response, earning him another mouthful of sand.

"_Where is he?_" Fenris roared again.

"I - I don't know - Hadriana -"

"_Hadriana_." I wondered if the word was a Tevinter curse. That's what it sounded like, rolling out of Fenris's lips. "Is she here?"

"In the caves - outside the coast - she said we were to come for you -"

"I know the caves," Fenris said darkly.

Of _course_ he knew the caves. Everyone knows those caves. Yeah, those caves. One only has to mention the word "caves" before we figure out which caves in particular they are referring to.

I wondered if I was the only one who was lost in this bizarre interrogation.

"Please, don't kill me," the mage begged. I considered telling Fenris to put him in the circle, possibly get him neutered.

_Oh, wait. They don't neuter mages. They make them tranquil. Right._

I opened my mouth to say something, but Fenris had already whispered something in the mage's ear.

Then snapped his neck.

My eyebrows raised in surprise. Fenris stomped around and screamed at the air for a while, then turned to me.

I was still a little stunned.

"We have to go, we have to find her," he was mumbling, to me, to himself. He began to pace. "Before she prepares or before she flees. We _must_ find her. She won't stop. She'll never stop until she finds me."

"Fenris." I finally made my mouth work. "Fenris, she won't get away."

I worried for him, half-expecting him to begin tearing his hair out in frustration.

"We'll go now," I said cautiously. "If you're up for it?"

He nodded curtly, sheathing his blade and stalking off, not even bothering to wipe the blood off his face.

The closer we got to the caves, the more frightened I became. If he had done _that_ to a regular mage, what would he do to this _Hadriana_? The more we walked, the less like himself he was, becoming distracted and jumpy. Isabela sneezed once, and he whipped his blade around, ready to strike her down.

It was getting _clearly_ out of hand, and as the semi-leader of the group, I should have put a stop to it.

But I didn't.

And so, when we came upon the caves, Fenris frothed at the mouth and I was directly at his back, knowing he would be acting irrationally and he _needed_ me at his side to protect him from his own stupidity.

It was a miracle we managed to survive the next few battles. There was always a blood mage sucking the life from the people around them, but they were never particularly gifted and couldn't parry an attack to save their lives.

It looked liked Danarius should focus less on the "kill, kill" tactics and more on "stop _dying_" tactics.

We barged into a large, open room, and an elf ran up to us, stuttering her words. I shoved her into a corner as the wave of soldiers fell upon us.

Fenris and I had our backs to the corner, protecting the girl and each other as we parried and thrust our blades into dimwitted soldiers. I threw a smoke bomb towards the men antagonizing Varric, and he saluted me before shooting their necks with Bianca.

"They killed him!" the girl wailed, covering her tear-stained cheeks with her hands. "They cut daddy, bled him to _death_!"

I walked over to her, resting my blades and smearing the blood from my cheeks.

"What's your name?" Fenris asked gently in a voice vastly different from the crazed ramblings of five minutes ago.

"Orana," she sniffed, composing herself. "They…I…everything was _fine_ until today," she cried.

Fenris sighed, closing his eyes. "No, it wasn't. You just didn't know any better." His eyes held a quiet sadness, a longing to change his past.

"Are - are _you_ my Master now?" Orana asked tentatively, and a little hopefully.

I watched horror flash over his eyes. "_No!_" he all but screeched, his hands flying up. He shuddered at the thought of owning a slave.

Her tears fell more. "But…but where will I go?" Her voice broke. I sighed, knowing I wouldn't be able to sleep at night if I knew she was out there alone. "I can cook! I can _clean!_" she insisted. "I'm a good slave."

Fenris grimaced and looked away, and I knew he hated this fate for her.

"If you can get yourself to Hightown," I said, barely thinking through my own offer, "I can give you work. A place to sleep. Food." I nodded at her and her face brightened.

"Thank you!" she cried, cupping her mouth. "Oh, Maker...thank you."

I felt sympathetic of this poor, enslaved elf. "Hurry now, before more slavers come," I instructed, handing her some coin. "Take this just in case you find trouble."

Her eyes grew wide as she contemplated what was in her hand. "No, no, I - I've never had money." She shoved her hands back at me. I closed them over the sovereigns, pushing them into her chest.

"Go," I commanded, and she nodded once. Chancing a glance at Fenris, she ran from the room, stumbling once.

"Wasn't she something?" Varric shook his head.

"You could have asked _me _if you wanted a _pet_," Fenris snarled. I almost didn't realize the words were directed at _me_ until I turned and saw his violent glare, promising blood if I didn't explain myself.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You'd probably kill me for even insinuating such a thing," I replied. He growled. "And I don't want a slave."

"Then why-"

"She would have been _killed_ out there, Fenris," I told him. He knew she would never make it, not as a skittish slave girl. "I can help her get acclimated to the outside world. I'll pay her and give her a room to stay in, and even get some cleaning done around the house." I rolled my eyes. "Maker knows no one ever does chores around my estate."

He looked a little taken aback, but some of his former self filtered into his eyes. I'm sure he realized the conclusion he had jumped to was ridiculous and that I would never want a slave, and if he didn't, well…

I may have to slap him later.

"I'm…sorry." His eyes met the floor and he took a deep breath. "I should've known better." Angling his head towards the door, he drew his sword again. "Let's go."

Hadriana lay in a pool of her own blood, begging for her life, clawing at any diversion that would spare her even a few minutes.

I had no doubt she deserved to die, but Fenris wasn't thinking clearly. I watched him circle her, a stolen knife waving in his hand.

Isabela was still a little pissed that he managed to take one of her precious knives.

"I have something," she sputtered. "Something you can use. Something you want to know. You don't want to kill me."

"Don't I?" Fenris spat at her. "You tortured me. Forced me awake at night, denied me food. I expect a _damn _good reason for not killing you."

"Fenris," she choked, and he stomped on her leg. A sickening _crack_ resounded about the room, and Hadriana screamed. I inhaled, wondering what he was playing at. Surely he wouldn't torture the bitch in front of us and expect me _not_ to react?

Although, he could always leave her to _me_. From what he'd said, Hadriana _was_ a bitch to him. How could anyone want to harm Fenris?

I cocked my head, rethinking the statement. He wasn't exactly cute and cuddly, for sure, and he was usually angry at the world, but there was a _reason_ for it. He was in _pain_; from his wounds, from his past.

Hadriana was responsible for at least a portion of that.

I glowered at her, not feeling as generous as I did a moment ago.

"There is only one person I want dead more," he challenged.

"It's about your sister," she gasped, her body quivering in pain as she favored her now-broken leg.

"A sister?" Fenris's eyes widened. "You're lying."

"Your sister lives," Hadriana insisted. "I can tell you where she is."

The words were desperate. There was no way they were true.

I glanced at Fenris. "It's up to you, Fenris. She could be lying. Or stalling." I nodded at him. "I've got your back, regardless."

I saw no appreciation in his cold, green eyes. He returned his attention to Hadriana.

"Tell me," he insisted.

"You promise you'll spare me?" Hope danced in her eyes, lightened her words.

"I give my word."

Liar.

_I would hate to die like this._

She whispered something into his ear, something about his sister.

"A servant?" his mouth formed the word in surprise. "Not a slave?"

"Not a slave," she confirmed. "Will you free me?"

Fenris tore through her chest with his hand, automatically answering her question. She screamed in pain as he jerked her spine, eventually snapping it in two.

I flinched.

"Shit," Varric muttered.

Isabela said nothing.

Fenris stormed past me. "Fenris?" I asked, hesitant. "Do you…want to talk about it?"

"_No_, I don't want to _fucking_ talk about it!" he exploded, rearing on me. I shrank away from his fury. "She could have been lying! Danarius would know that she knows, and might have sent her here to lure me into a trap!" He balled his fists, clutching his head. "She's my _sister_, Hawke. Varania. I can't even _remember her_. My own flesh and blood. What if the entire thing is a lie?"

"Fenris, calm down," I soothed, touching my hand to his shoulder. He ripped it away.

"Don't _touch_ me!" he snapped, backing away. "I don't want your empty comfort."

My eyes widened.

"Ouch," Isabela whispered behind me. "What an ass."

Fenris's eyes flashed to my face, and I could only imagine he saw the hurt there. I hardened my gaze, not wanting him to see how much he had affected me.

I wanted to be angry at him. I wanted to yell back, to threaten his life.

I only exhaled through my nose, feeling my eyes burn. I shook my hair, and it was oily against my cheeks and forehead. I clenched my fingers, popping my knuckles. My muscles ached from all the exertion, and I would benefit greatly from a warm bath.

Fenris cursed.

"I…need to go."

* * *

><p><strong>Who did you side with first? Mages or templars?<strong>


	6. Wasted Wolf

**One person says they sided with the mages for Bethany's sake. I was a mage and sided with the templars. Crazy, right?**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six: Wasted Wolf<strong>

_Fuck you, I'm drunk._

_Flogging Molly_

I couldn't find him _anywhere_. I searched for any sign of him on the beach, for footprints, for blood trails, and found nothing.

The sand never felt so coarse. The waves never sounded as deadly. The falls onto sharp, jagged rocks never appeared to be so malevolent.

A knew round of worry plagued my mind. I couldn't let the man _die on a beach._ That would be…something Varric should write. I wracked my brain, moaning in frustration.

Bandits were everywhere. What if he was lost, and they found him? What if he was sore and tired, and he collapsed off a cliff? What if a giant spider crawled from one of the caves and speared him with a fang?

I was going insane.

"He's fine, Hawke," Varric said from behind me in a comforting tone. "Fenris is resourceful. A bastard, yes, but a _resourceful_ and _clever_ bastard. He's probably already at home."

"Maker, I hope you're right." My voice was shaky in concern for Fenris's well-being. "What if he stumbles across a dragon? Or, maybe darkspawn? _What if Danarius was waiting for him and he took Fenris_?"

Varric groaned. "Rivaini, I think we've lost her."

Isabela placed a hand around my shoulder. "I know you're worried, Hawke, and I am as well. After all, he took my knife with him. If he knows what's good for him, he'll be safe and at home, and I won't be forced to kill him."

I moaned again, pressing my fingers into my forehead. This was all so_ taxing_. The sun was sinking, the air growing cooler, and we were still a mile away from the outskirts of Kirkwall.

_Fenris_, I pleaded, _I hope you haven't done anything stupid._

His house was empty when I found it. I searched every room, turning over each crevice and examining each closet.

_Maker's balls, what has he done now?_

It was nearly morning when I returned to my own house, weak and worried. I stripped out of my armor and into my finery, washed the bloodstains from my skin. Unable to sleep, I limped into the sitting room and rekindled the fire, the crackling lighting up the books in the corner.

The books I had planned to give Fenris. I scratched the back of my head and sat on the carpet, leaning against one of the sturdy chairs and closing my eyes. I knew I wouldn't sleep; if Fenris never showed up, it was likely I wouldn't ever sleep again.

A door creaked open. I reached for a dagger on the shelf, and raised myself up, but I already knew who it was.

"Fenris," I sighed in relief, tossing the knife away. I walked over to him, unsure of his state-of-mind. Was he still frenzied?

"Hadriana," he said, his eyes meeting the floor, and I halted in my tracks. "She was a torment. She tortured me, denied me my body's cravings, and flaunted my own weaknesses into my face." His eyes briefly held mine, then dropped again. "I knew no better when I was a slave, but I know better now. I couldn't have done anything to her in the past because of her station. I…thank you."

"For what?" I breathed, not wanting to interrupt him.

"For showing me that I'm more than a slave," he responded quietly. "If Anso hadn't found you, if you had denied me…Hawke, you've treated me less like a slave and more like a _person_ than anyone I've ever met. If you hadn't been helping me these past few years, I would've never been able to do what I did."

"She begged you for life, Fenris, and you crushed her."

He shook his head, walking away from me and turning his armor-clad back to face me. I glared at the shiny metal. "I…_hate_ her, Hawke. Even now that she's gone. I _killed_ her, and the hate hasn't left me." He turned to face me again. "I had hoped to alleviate the burden of it with her death, but all I feel is this…emptiness. I can't help but feel as if I haven't accomplished anything at all."

I inched closer to him, loathing the distance between us. "Fenris, you're a free man. A strong man. I'd say _that_ is an accomplishment, if nothing else."

Fenris scoffed. "_Free_. I barely know the meaning of the word." He began pacing across the room, resembling a crazed man; his white hair was plastered across his forehead with sweat, his eyes were wild and enraged. He had bruises and cuts along the bare patches of flesh that I could see, and I wondered where he had been.

I walked closer to him, unwilling to touch him for fear of him snapping at me as he had last time.

"Fenris," I said his name gently. "Where have you been?"

His eyes met mind for the quickest of moments, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Forgive me, Hawke. I took my anger out on you - undeservedly so. I - I haven't been myself, and for that, I apologize."

"I was upset." Biting my lip, I turned to the fire, coaxing more embers from the wood. "You didn't explain where you were going, you didn't take anyone with you, didn't contact me all night -" I shut my eyes, taking a deep breath. "You don't make it easy, you know."

"I don't make what easy?" he asked carefully, stepping closer.

"Caring for you." I left the poker near the fireplace and closed the few steps separating us.

"I needed to be alone," he justified in a low voice, looking down at me. I nodded, showing I understood. "I didn't think about how it would affect you." His fingers rose to my shoulder and brushed my short hair behind my ear, tracing the rim of it with his pointer finger.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I didn't mean to burden you with my trials."

"Stop apologizing," I ordered, capturing his raised hand in mine. I contemplated it, twisting the gauntlet in my hand, admiring the craftsmanship, however dirtied by blood and soot it may be. "I'm your friend, Fenris. I'm here to listen."

He sighed, pulled his hand from mine and ran the clawed fingers through his matted white hair as his feet carried him uncertainly towards the door. "I'm not sure I know what that is."

* * *

><p>"What did you bring me today, Hawke?" Anders asked, giving me an open smile. He gestured for me to sit on one of the empty cots in the clinic.<p>

"Oh, you know," I faked a little grin. "The usual. Those smelly roots, some smellier roots, and maybe…some chocolate." I leaned in and slit my eyes. "Just don't tell Isabela I have any or I'll never hear the end of it." Wagging my finger at him, I pulled out a filthy satchel of elf root and handed it to him.

Anders chuckled. "Give the chocolate to her. I'd prefer a cat."

"Didn't you say there was one in the neighborhood?"

He made a face. "I don't want to talk about it. It was a traumatizing experience - I didn't even know a cat could bend that way."

I winced at the mental image. "I take it the natives don't enjoy cats."

"Oh, they enjoy them, all right." He placed the roots on a table for cleaning. "A bit too much, one might add. I fear for the welfare of all of the small, cuddly beasts in the area."

I tugged the few bites of chocolate from my bag, snapping off a piece of the brown luxury and sticking it in my mouth to suck on. I offered a bite to Anders, and he took it, winking at me.

"So I heard about the elf having a breakdown," Anders said conversationally. I froze. "Did he really scream at you?"

I swallowed the chocolate, putting it in my back. "I think it's time I left." Smiling thinly, I scooped up my satchel and placed it on my shoulder.

"Why?" asked a frowning, surprised Anders, looking up from where he sliced the elf root. "You only arrived a few moments ago! Was it something I said?"

"No." I glanced over my shoulder and headed to the back of the clinic, where a door sat conveniently for times such as these. "Isabela is coming."

"Ah," he said sagely, nodding his head. "I won't tell her about your chocolate, then."

I shut the door behind me, slipping into the darkness of the tunnel. I heard Isabela's voice filter through the loose slats, but ignored it and walked away, feeling my way through the choking darkness.

The further I went, the colder it became. I wondered where Fenris went after he left me. To his house? To the Hanged Man? _Why_ did he leave?

I should have gone after him. I should have grabbed him, made him stay. Made him talk to me.

Maybe if I bribed him with chocolate, he'd be interested in staying.

I rolled my eyes at myself for even considering that option. Did Fenris even _like_ chocolate? In all likeliness, the answer was no. Fenris didn't seem to like anything at all.

I remembered how high-strung he was in the cave, where he raged and bled. He had been subdued last night, and _very _apologetic. I couldn't fathom why he would feel the need to apologize to _me_; out of everyone, I would be the least likely to judge him. I cared for him.

The emotion was still foreign, but growing stronger every time I thought the words. Could he sense it? Would there have been something in the way I handled him, spoke to him, that would give my newfound emotion away? He was perceptive; I couldn't keep it from him for long. If that was what it even was.

I only knew it would hurt to lose him, so I wouldn't. I would do everything in my power to keep him with me.

My face smacked into stone, and just like that, I knew I was home and that I shouldn't have gotten so caught up in my thoughts. Cursing at my lack of attentiveness, I reached up and felt for the latch that opened the door to my basement, jumping up to reach the floor. I shut the trapdoor behind me, locking it again.

Sandal and Bodahn were mysteriously absent, but that was fine. I didn't feel like making any more small talk. My room was empty, so I stripped and changed into something comfortable and light. I poked the ashes of the fire around, but groaned when no embers lit.

I resolved myself to gathering more wood. I slipped on a thin pair of slippers and walked down the stairs, searching for the extra supply in a closet. Carrying the load upstairs, I rekindled the fire and in moments it blazed happily in the hearth.

I was not so lucky. My happiness couldn't return so easily. What would it take? A pound of chocolate? Kisses from Fenris? Being reunited with my family?

I imagined running up to Gamlen and jumping happily into his arms, then shuddered. _Hell_ no. Gamlen wass the only family I have left - which was extremely depressing.

I hummed, trying to relax my stiff muscles. What was it? I didn't want any chocolate. I should have just left it at Anders' clinic. I wasn't thirsty, and I wasn't tired...

The atmosphere was already dark. I jumped up, throwing on a cloak and running to the door. I didn't know if he would want me there, but I knew I wanted to be there.

His mansion was dark, but that didn't mean he wasn't there. Hopping in the window again, I raced up the stairs, cloak flailing behind me as the giddy feeling rose in my lungs.

Had it been a full day since I saw him last? Far too long.

Fenris looked surprised to see me, but that may have only been the wild eyes and the disheveled hair that alarmed him. I beamed at his wary face, then spotted wine bottles that littered the dirty floor.

I raised an eyebrow. "Drinking without me?"

Chuckling, he shook his head and offered me a glass. "Forgive me. I remember what happened last time I forgot to give you wine."

"That was_ your _fault. _I_ didn't throw a bottle at the wall."

"It's Aggregio; my Master used to have all the bottles in the cellar, and I would serve them to his guests." He made a show of pouring me a glass and I rolled my eyes. A drunk Fenris was entertaining, and I immediately forgot about the satchel of books I had thought to bring. "This is the last of that particular brand, and I've been saving it for a special occassion."

"A special occassion?" I asked, smiling at the way his overgrown hair flopped into his face. I would offer to trim it for him later, but damn it, the view was adorable. "Good thing I brought chocolate." I stuck my hand into my bag and brought out the partially-melted delicacy.

He laughed a deep, happy laugh, and I vowed to myself to get him drunk more often. "The anniversary of my escape." He leaned back in his chair. I ignored the glass and went straight for the bottle, taking a long sip and sitting across from him.

"Sounds interesting," I said, straining at the bitter taste of the wine before passing it back.

"Care to hear the story?" Fenris leaned over, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

I grinned, already feeling the familiar buzzing in my head. "I like hearing you talk," I confessed. "I had planned on making you read to me when I came over."

He took another sip of the bottle, then set it onto the table. "There are few pleasures greater than speaking with a beautiful woman," he said, cocking his head. "Where to start? I suppose you've heard of Seheron, at least. The Imperium and the Qunari have fought over the wasted island for centuries now. I was there once with Danarius during a sudden Qunari attack."

Did he learn how to speak Qunari on Seheron? I kept my mouth shut, reminding myself to ask him later. He had never been this talkative before - did the wine do this to him?

I would have to remember that detail for later.

"As his guard, I managed to get him to a ship to escape, but...there was no room for a slave." He raised his head a fraction of an inch, staring at his lap. "They left me at port, which was soon taken over by a swarm of Qunari. I barely survived."

I doubted that. Fenris was one hell of a warrior. "Convenient situation for escape. I bet you hardly had to work for it."

Fenris snorted and rolled his eyes. "I wasn't _trying_ to escape. I escaped by default."

I laughed at the image of him being forced to escape and shook my head. "What did you do?"

"I became a rebel, of course."

* * *

><p>They were crafty and strong; barely a glorified group of rogues, but dangerous to a wanderer with ill intent.<p>

Fenris was running through the knee-deep grass when he saw them. They observed him through carelessly open spots in the trees, their armor glinting and their grins mocking.

He was worn, bloody, and panting. His tattoos blazed, his eyes burned with the lack of sleep. His lungs ached from all the inhaled smoke.

Fenris collapsed onto the ground, swinging his sword in one last ditch effort to defend himself.

"Lost, elf?" called one.

"Show yourselves."

Another laughed. "_Show yourselves_," he mocked.

"Quiet," said another in an authoritive voice. "What's your name, elf?"

* * *

><p>"Fog warriors?" I asked, leaning towards him in renewed interest.<p>

"I was weary, and they didn't attack me. They took me in, helped me. I couldn't have died if I tried."

* * *

><p>The fog warriors desired neither money or servitude; their only goal was freedom for all. Fenris was in awe of them. They were not lacking of spirit; they loved and lived and fought for what they believed in.<p>

Something Fenris had never experienced for himself. He still didn't believe himself to be free; it was only a temporary reprieve. They saved him, let him survive. He lived with them for months, biding his time with the rebels. He knew it wouldn't last, yet he couldn't depart on his own.

Danarius found him, eventually. Called him home. Fenris would have left willingly, but the fog warriors had grown attached to the enslaved, amnesiac elf. They would not let him go.

"Over our dead bodies!" they threatened. Fenris looked to Danarius.

Danarius sighed. "You half-witted fools aren't worthy of the effort. Fenris?" Their eyes met. "Take care of them, will you?"

And he did. Every last one of them.

He slaughtered all of them; the men, who had taught him to survive in the harsh forests; the women, who showed him more affection than he deserved; even the innocent children, who had kept their distance from the strange-looking elf.

The rebels hadn't attacked him. They went straight for his Master, believing that Fenris wouldn't betray them. Danarius and his men suffered little losses, though the loss within the fog warriors was great.

* * *

><p>"I don't understand. I thought you liked the fog warriors?"<p>

"I respected them. They bowed to no master."

"Then why did you kill them?"

"Because I _did_ bow to the will of a master." He shook his head. "When he ordered me to kill them, I killed them _all_."

Sighing, I pulled my legs into the chair with me, contemplating the story. "You gave it all up. You probably could have killed him then, you know."

"No," he denied. "I wouldn't have. Couldn't have. It had to happen for me to see...that I didn't have to be what I was. When I saw their bodies littering the ground and knew what I had done...I couldn't...I had to leave. So I ran. I ran as hard and as far as I could, never looking back."

"So you _did_ escape? You left Seheron?"

"_Escape_ wasn't my intention. I had to get away. It was my only thought." He scratched at his hair. "I boarded a ship."

"Did the crew _know_ you were on the ship?"

He chuckled. "They probably inferred my presence when their food began disappearing. I was chased the entire way, of course."

"The coveted slave," I said with a grin. "It seems as if everyone wants you on their side, Fenris." I thought a moment, resting my chin on my knees. "I am curious, though, as to why you didn't leave sooner."

"Leave?" he raised his eyebrows. "I was a slave, Hawke. Slaves don't think of leaving - I doubt the word "freedom" was even in my vocabulary. A slave's every waking moment is filled with their master's desires and needs. There is no room for thinking of yourself."

"Slaves rebel," I disagreed. "Shartan is an example."

He shrugged. "I'm only relating to my past experiences. Anything before the moment I received my markings has been obliviated; if I had memories beyond that, things may have been different. Danarius was wounded, and I was fast. By the time he was ready to mount the hunt in earnest, I was long gone."

Fenris took a long drink from the wine bottle, then passed it over to me. I put it to my mouth half-heartedly, holding the bottle thoughtfully in my palms afterward.

"I..." I looked up when Fenris began to speak again. "I've never spoken to anyone about this before. It's nice, being able to get things out in the open." He glanced up at me from beneath his bangs, a bashful grin on his face. "Perhaps this is what it's like."

"What is this like?" I questioned, my legs dropping. I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees, restless.

"Having a friend," he replied.

I laughed, pressing my cool hands to my enflamed face. "I think you've had too many swigs of that bottle."

Fenris laughed, doubling over and grabbing the bottle from my lap. "It's the last one, I swear!" He took another great gulp, and I shook my head at him.

"Is that what we are?" I quietly inquired, leaning onto my palm. Was it the drink that brought this from him? I knew that the night before, when he was in my house, I told him that we were friends and he could talk to me; I wondered if he had taken that to heart.

Or, maybe he was drunk.

We _had_ kissed before; it wasn't an often occurrance, but it had happened more than once. He had even asked me into his bed before, though I had seduced him.

I was a deplorable person for pushing him, wasn't I?

"Pardon?" he asked through his laughter.

"Friends," I clarified. "I...had almost thought we were more than that."

When did it get so hot in here? It was _stifling_.

He sobered up quickly, taking a deep breath. Did I do that?

I suddenly felt horrible for ruining his laughter. Why couldn't I have just let a sleeping dog lie?

_Stupid, Hawke. Stupid, stupid, stupid._

"I never allowed myself the companionship," he said thoughtfully. "I was beginning to think I was incapable of being a friend, let alone...something else." Bringing his hand up to his face, he inspected the white, curling stripes that marked his skin. "When I was inflicted with these markings, the pain was intense, as you know." He sent a pointed look my way, and I nodded, remembering the precarious situation in which I first touched him. "The memory of the process will not leave me."

Open foot, insert mouth. I knew we had grown closer over these last few months, but did I really expect he would forget his past so easily? _Stupid, thoughtless.._

"I've never met a woman quite like you before, Hawke," he said, green eyes meeting mine with an intense smolder.

My eyes widened. Oh, the _smolder_.

"With you, it might be different."

I cast a speculative glance at the floor, wondering if it would hurt too badly if I fainted on it. He searched me with those eyes, and I felt as if he saw _through_ me, seeing the awkwardness I presented as well as the surefooted passion for him.

I cleared my throat, unable to break his gaze. "I assume that means you've never...ah, you know..."

He sighed, wincing. "If there was anyone before, I don't remember it."

"Must not have been good," I teased, trying to bring another grin to his face. It failed.

I almost slapped myself on the wrist. "I didn't mean to ruin your mood, Fenris."

He waved me off. "It wasn't a good mood until you came." He smiled, and like that, my worries were gone again. How did he know which words were the right ones to say? It was baffling, how smooth he was.

"You're really saying there hasn't been anyone since you escaped?"

"Did you think there would be a high count of women?" he asked playfully.

"Women _do_ have eyes, last I checked." I grabbed the bottle before the conversation continued. "And you _are_ gorgeous."

"Gorgeous?" His eyebrow raised as he contemplated the adjective. "Doubtful. And I've been on the run for far too long. Who would I trust? There was no one I was even remotely interested in." He contemplated his thorned arms. "Until now."

The fire in his gaze when his eyes met mine scorched me to the bone, and I barely contained my gasp.

Can one get turned on by a look?

_Oh, yes,_ my unny cried. _One can._ I closed my legs.

"You really think it would be different with me?" When he said nothing, I continued, "We could find out, you know."

He met my eyes with a wry nod of his head. "Some other time, I think."

"Why?" I pouted, clenching my legs together. _Please, sweet Maker, change his mind._

"For one, we're both completely drunk."

Ugh. Good point.

I foresaw a very unhappy Hawke in the morning with a gigantic hangover.

But for right now, the only thing I saw approaching me rapidly in the future -

-was the floor. I fell over on the rug, giggling at my own expense while Fenris laughed above me.

"I think you've had enough."

* * *

><p>Of course, I had to be woken up at an ungodly hour by Avenline's ranting.<p>

"And then I tried to give it to him, but I just...I couldn't..._Hawke_," she called my attention when I had rolled over in an attempt to ignore her.

"Can it wait?" I mumbled through the fabric encasing me. "I'm not feeling too good..." When had I made it home? And _Maker_, did my breath reek.

"It isn't _my_ fault you went out drinking with the elf last night," she bitched. "I need your _help_, Hawke." Her voice was pleading.

I moaned in aggravation, sitting up. My head pounded rhythmically in an agonizing, painful beat. "Maker help me, Aveline."

"Please?" she asked hopefully. I rolled out of bed.

"Get the hell out of my house. I'll meet you in the barracks after I bathe."

She leapt in the air, grabbing me into a full hug. I felt pinched beneath her heavy suit of armor, but accepted the affectionate gesture. "Thank you, Hawke."

Right. Come to find out, Aveline had a crush on a guardsman.

Cute, but I wasn't so amused. We spent (and by 'we', I mean the idiots that were foolish enough to be strung along) the entire day playing "matchmaker" - which was embarrassing, to say the least. A waste of my talents.

Much more than that, even, considering she wouldn't even _talk_ to the man, should the opportunity arise. Which it did.

_Several times._

I would have never placed "shy" and "Aveline" in the same sentence, but there you go: Aveline was shy.

When we finally hooked her and the guardsman up, it was because he got fed up with all the hassle and decided to confront her himself.

Nevermind the fact that he thought_ I _was coming onto him. _Thank you, Aveline. _Isabela found the situation to be entertaining, and I _had_ to drag her along for comedic relief.

There would have been no way I would have done that without Isabela to make me laugh. I would have died from embarrassment, otherwise.

When it was clear that Donnic wasn't going to turn in a sexual harrassment report, we left him alone with Aveline, hoping she wouldn't muck up this opportunity.

* * *

><p>It was late when I dragged myself into my estate, dumping my armor on the ground. I hadn't seen Fenris since the night before, when we knowlingly plunged ourselves into the hangovers of our lives, and wondered what he had been doing today.<p>

I was in the middle of a bath when I heard them: Footsteps.

Slipping from the tub, I pulled on my robe and picked up a dagger. My hair was tangled, my skin wet as I inched down the stairs, my eyes narrowed as I prepared for an attack.

Who would it be this time? Last time I was lucky when it was merely Fenris; this time, it could be anyone. I could only hope they weren't hostile, since I had no time to slip back into my dirty armor.

The stairs creaked as I inched down them, knife firmly in my palm. I was ready to strike the intruder down when he came into my view, pacing in my foyer.

I dropped the knife. "You're back?"

"Hawke." His voice was low. My eyes widened as he approached me, backing me into a corner. "I've been thinking of you."

I tried to remember how to breathe, but I couldn't overcome the shock of seeing him standing in my house in the middle of the night, not to mention the added factor of his deranged look; his eyes were ringed, his hair frazzled, his voice low.

He leaned over me. "I've been able to think of little else." His nose skimmed my naked shoulder, and I shivered, tightening my robes.

"Command me to go, and I shall."

* * *

><p><strong>How do you feel about cliff hangers?<strong>


	7. Asskicking Arishok

**I have one reviewer that thinks cliffhangers are necessary; another **_**hates**_** cliffhangers. I **_**love**_** cliffhangers. :3**

**Warning: Uhm, yeah. Do I even have to warn you for what's in this one?**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven: Asskicking Arishok<strong>

_To the right,_

_To the left,_

_We will fight _

_To the death._

_30 Seconds to Mars "This is War"_

I gasped, unable to form words as he pressed me against the wall, every firm inch of him flush to every soft inch of me.

_Maker, help me._

"Hawke?" he rasped into my hair, and the pressure of him against me began to slacken as he slowly backed away.

My hands snaked around his neck of their own accord, trapping him before me. "Don't," I demanded weakly, pulling him back to me. "Don't leave me."

In one gust of an exhalation, he had me slammed against the wall, my thighs braced against either of his hips as he thrust against me. My hands - where were my hands? My arms were around my neck, but my hands were fists in his hair, allowing my a glorious view of his neck.

He growled and yanked his head forward, retaliating with another thrust. My head hit the wall as he pushed his hips into mine, and I groaned embarrassingly loudly.

_Maker,_ I prayed. _I'll attend Chantry services daily. I'll donate every sovereign I have. I'll donate to any charity - just please, don't let him stop._

"Good," he grunted into my neck, causing me to waver. Had I been talking out loud again? "I didn't really plan on it."

I _really_ needed a mental filter.

"Fenris," I gasped when his hand left my hip and met the juncture between my legs, brushing my robe out of the way. I hadn't even noticed that he had shed his gauntlets until his naked fingers met my drenched warmth, causing me to buck against him and tighten my legs around his waist.

My desperate fingers found his belt buckle, tugging it loose. He groaned when my flesh met his, eager and excited. My mouth immediately traveled to his jaw, to his collar bone, up the column of his neck and traced the white tattoos on his flesh with my tongue. I followed the trail with sloppy kisses, all the way up behind his ear.

_Victory!_ an inner part of me cried. Poor thing had been waiting for that.

"Your room?" he breathed.

"Ungh," I answered, my hands on a mission to free him from his greaves.

We were in my room before I was consciously aware of the fact that we had been moving; he dumped me onto the bed before tumbling after me, his lips hot on mine and his fingers brushing apart my flimsy robe, tugging it from my arms.

"Fenris," I whispered, pulling his chest-piece off.

"Ungh?" he responded, mimicking my previous response.

"You can't fuck me with your pants on," I pointed out helpfully.

We both laughed. He pressed his forehead to mine, out sweat intermingling. His smile was timid and breathtaking.

"Hey," he said, making me laugh again.

"Hi," I said, stroking his bare back. "Long time, no see."

"You wicked, wicked woman," he accused, his pelvis brushing mine. I shuddered, driving myself up into him. "You've invaded my every thought," he whispered.

"I fear for your sanity," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat.

He parted his lips, capturing mine in a searing kiss, our tongues tangling together briefly. "I, as well."

We stayed like that for a moment, both of us catching our breaths.

"Hawke, I - I haven't done this before," he confessed, but I had already heard it.

"It's simple, really." I masked a giggle at his eye roll.

"Tell me if I do something wrong," he demanded, shaking off his pants completely and aligning himself with my entrance. I held back a moan.

"The only wrong you can do is not-" my words were cut short by a cry as he filled me, burying himself to the hilt. I stretched to accommodate him, my thighs clenching his as I fought to catch my breath.

"Oh," I gasped. He began to move, his fingers touching the sensitive flesh above my center as his hips worked against mine. "Oh."

"Isabela told me a few things," he informed huskily into my ear. "Mind if I test them?"

Thank you, Isabela. You will be receiving _all_ of my chocolate tomorrow.

"Fenris?" I tried attaining his attention, fighting the friction between my legs.

"Yesss?" he hissed into my shoulder.

"Stop talking about Isabela."

He grunted, keeping up his frantic pace inside of me. I knew he tried to last, to prolong my pleasure, but he _was_ a virgin.

I was mostly happy that now, since he'd done it once, he might want to do it again...and hey, you can only get better, right?

His free hand brushed my breast, causing me to arch into his chest, making the fit even tighter. Fenris cried out, his lyrium tattoos glowing faintly in the night, and I clutched him to me, sweaty and happily unsatisfied as he pulsed inside of me.

He collapsed onto my chest, kissing my skin and shivering, and when my heart slowed to an even pace, my mind slipped away.

* * *

><p>The first thing I noticed was his absence. My eyes opened to a crackling, illuminating fire instead of darkness. When they adjusted, I saw him standing near the embers, fully clothed.<p>

"What's wrong?" I asked immediately, sitting up.

"Hawke." He didn't turn, though I saw his head dip. "I..."

Blinking, realization flooded me._ Andraste's jiggling tits, I'm an ass_. "Oh. I hurt you, didn't I? Shit! Fuck me, an inconsiderate bitch-"

I was working myself into a frenzy when he held up a clawed hand to silence my ranting.

_That fucking armor._

"It was _fine_," he assured me, facing the fire.

I bit my lip. With that kind of reaction, I probably _did_ hurt him - when was it? Did I squeeze too hard? Press too much? This shouldn't have happened. I had wanted it too much; of course it shouldn't have happened-

"No," he said abruptly, making me jump. "Those are insufficient words." He turned and approached the bed, trailing his fingers up my naked thigh when I was in reach. "It was better than anything I could have ever dreamed."

A goofy, dreamy smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "Really?" I asked, hopeful.

"Really," he confirmed, troubled look in his eye.

"Then why..."I trailed off as he sighed, removing his hand from me. _Shit. I just had to say something, didn't I?_

"I can't do this," he said, and it sounded like an apology. He fell away from me, walking back to the fire. "The...memories. They have...resurfaced."

"Memories?" I echoed, pushing my legs over the side of the bed. "I don't think I understand - are you talking about before you were a slave?"

He nodded mutely.

Well, damn. Losing his virginity and regaining all of his lost memories? Talk about one hell of a night.

"Are you okay with this?" I asked, concerned.

"I don't know," Fenris breathed shakily.

"I thought your memories were what you wanted," I continued cautiously.

"They were," he groaned, fisting his hair. "They _are_. I don't know anymore, Hawke."

His eyes met mine, and I found fear in their emerald depths.

"Come back," I beseech. "We'll figure this out together."

He shook his head and backed further away from me. A crack formed in my chest as the steps brought him closer to the door.

"You don't understand," he said, eyebrows meeting worriedly. "Everything...all of them...they were all there," he said, eyes tired. "And then they were gone. I don't...I'm not sure if I want to remember them anymore." His voice broke.

"Fenris." Bringing his attention back to reality, I enforced my plea upon him. "Stay with me, Fenris. You don't have to be alone."

His hands held his face, and I all but glowered at them. _My_ hands could suit the purpose better. "I'm sorry," he cried. "I can't - I just _can't_. I'm _sorry_, Hawke. I only wanted to be happy with you."

"Please don't go," I begged, all reservations gone. I stumbled out of the bed and leapt towards the door, towards _him_. "We can make it work." I reached out to him, but he ducked from under my grasping hand.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, and I felt as if he was always saying this to me. He left me there, alone in my room, hand outstretched towards no one.

Fuck my luck.

* * *

><p>I moaned, leaning into the thin strip of railing that lined the balcony. "Maker's smelly nutsack, this is stupid."<p>

Varric grunted from behind me. "Bianca is going to splinter."

Fenris sighed. "It's just a little further."

Aveline only looked worried. "Do you think Isabela will come in time?"

I snorted. "Since when do you give two shits?" I snapped. "You hate each other. So what if she runs? I'll hunt her down and break her legs."

Aveline straightened her back, eying me warily. I met her eyes with a raised eyebrow and challenging expression. She _did_ hate Isabela, right?

Yeah, I needed to stop being a bitch. Is that what getting laid had turned me into?

No, that would be the man _leaving_ me afterwards. I didn't hate_ Fenris_, though.

Just everyone else. Or maybe myself. Or his memories.

Obviously, I was conflicted.

Heaving in a breath, I lifted my short swords. Lifted being a variable term, since I couldn't bear to raise my arms higher than my head. "Let's keep moving. We're almost to the Viscount's Keep; Fenris, I'll need you to back me up."

I saw him nod, his overgrown white hair looking pink with blood spatter and swaying with the movement.

Exhaustion plagued my bones; each step was a burden, and things that weighed one ounce felt as if they were two ton. I was hit with a distinct desire to crawl into a corner to sleep for a little while - a week would be long enough.

"The Arishok has gone too far," I murmured, more to reassure myself that what I was doing was good. Right. Destiny, or something.

Still, that corner looked pretty fucking amazing right now.

"What is your plan?" asked Aveline, ever the tactician. Why didn't I think of a plan? I should have thought about thinking up a plan. Of course, my best plan so far involved a corner.

"I'm going to walk right up to the large, intimidating Arishok and say, 'Pardon me, Mister Big-and-Intimidating, I would rather like it if you left our lands for some place more suited for your humongous biceps.' I was going to play it by ear from there, only slightly banking on the chance that the thieving whore will come back with that tome-thing." Couldn't trust the bitch as far as I could throw her - which wasn't a good analogy, since I could most likely throw her pretty far.

"She's got this," Varric assured Aveline, who groaned.

"Bullshit. I need a drink before we do this."

That son of a _bitch_ wanted me to fight to the death. Fenris, my fuck buddy _Fenris_, told me to go fight to the death.

When I was already half dead.

If the rest of the Qunari weren't scary enough, the Arishok was ten times larger and much more terrifying.

And of course, Fenris thought it would be great for me to fight him alone. With my two puny, pathetic knives against his rock-hard abs.

_Oh, dear Maker, I am going to die tonight_.

Maybe that would be best.

Or not.

Son of a _bitch_.

I shook my head; bit my lip. My eyes lined the walls of Qunari soldiers that watched the scene unfold; I caught sight of several Saar'bas dotting the scene, to top it off.

I had two warriors and three rogues, and that included myself _and _Isabela - who, against all odds, returned before the shit really hit the fan. I expected that we would hand over the relic and the big-and-nasties would take a hike (or, more preferably, a ship) and get the fuck out of my town, but no. They were out for blood.

I couldn't count on back up. We wouldn't win the fight against all these Qunari _and_ the Arishok himself.

What else could I do?

"You and I, Arishok," I decided, my eyes snapping to his. I contemplated his horns, wondered how much they weighed.

How much they would hurt when they skewered me.

Yeah, they'd hurt. I could just imagine the Arishok lacing them with poison in the morning, daring some small, innocent creature to fall to their doom on the pointy deathtraps.

"We're going to have some fun together."

Maker help me, _I_ was going to be that small, innocent creature for the day.

I shot another longing glance at the far corner, where my companions had retreated. If Fenris was so gung-ho for this fight, why didn't _he_ do this and let _me_ go into the corner?

The Arishok roared, catching my attention just before he charged into me. I leapt to the side, tossing one of my retardant bombs at his face in a fumbled moment of clarity.

So what if I was inept, short, and weighed two-hundred pounds lighter than this giant asshole? I could still put up a decent fight.

"Did you actually mean to _hit_ me with that attack?" I taunted, seeing Fenris wince in the corner. Was that a bad idea? Probably.

I heard another great roar from the beastly man.

Yeah, it was a bad idea.

I spun my knives out, planning how this was going to happen. He charged at me again, his great sword weighing him down and making his movements sluggish.

Okay, I had_ that _on him, for what it was worth. I moved swiftly, ducking beneath his sword and aiming for the tender skin of his side. I hoped it was tender. Not chiseled. I groaned. _Every part of him is chiseled._

He brought his knee up, knocking the wind from me. His massive arm flung out and I barely had enough time to brace myself; in the next instant, I flew across the room and slid against the marble floors until my momentum ran out.

_Don't get close,_ I told myself, flinching as I rolled onto an injured leg. Was it broken? I couldn't tell. I held my tongue against my screams of pain and my smartass comments, preferring to keep both to myself.

_This son of a cock-choking whore has a very large sword. Note to self: Don't call his mother a cock-choking whore. To his face._

I had to find a way to injure him without being underfoot; obviously, my normal fighting style wouldn't work on this guy. Adapt, Hawke. You pride yourself on your abilities, so_ use them_.

The Arishok raised his blade again and came after me, but I danced away, buying time. Think, Hawke. Think.

What did the room have that I could possibly use to an advantage? Stone floors, Qunari people standing against the walls looking bored, tapestries... I could throw one of his soldiers at him? No, I would be immediately mauled.

Tapestries and the floor. You've got to be fucking kidding me. How could I use-

Oh, _shit yeah!_

His great sword came around again, and ever dexterous, I jumped onto the blade itself, leaping towards a marble column.

Hell yeah. I ripped the crimson tapestry from the column itself, running across the room in an instant. I threw another bomb at him and ducked behind a different pillar as I set up my new weapon.

Tying the tapestry to both of my knives, I connected them by the long, flowing fabric. There was no time to test it out, as a moment later, the weapon of my enemy stabbed me in the side. I couldn't contain my cry of pain as his elbow smacked me in the face, bloodying my nose.

_Maker_. My head spun, and suddenly, it was hard to breathe. I ran away again, my ears ringing from the impact of his arm, and threw out one of my knives.

It hit pay dirt, the blade sinking into his thigh. Before he could snap it in half or slap it away, I yanked it back out, laughing at my own ingenuity.

Genius, right? I swung the offending blade over my head in circles, limping and breathing through my mouth.

There still was a good chance I would die. The room spun around me, and it was all I could do to stay on two feet.

_Why couldn't I have been born a mage? This would have been much easier..._

He rushed for me again, and I dove to the left, no longer able to stay on my feet.

_Get up. Get up, get up, get up. You've barely made a dent in him._

I was pretty sure I was going to die.

I lashed out with my knife again; it sailed through the air, a clear miss.

"Fuck!" I shouted, rolling to the left as his sword came down. Blood poured from my nose in buckets, and all the rolling made me lightheaded. "Just _die_ already!"

I twisted the fabric again, sending first one, then the other knife into his shoulder blades. One flayed the thick flesh of his collarbone; the other made a nick in his arm. I sighed. I should have gone back to little rogue school.

_Keep fighting._

I leaned onto my knees, feeling one pop sickeningly under my weight.

Something caught the corner of my eye, and my heart clenched. One of the soldiers had tossed the fuckhole another sword, and he loosely manipulated both of them. I jumped onto my feet, my joints protesting. I half wished he would kill me so I wouldn't hurt so much.

He sliced the blades through the air, trying to chop me but only succeeding in knocking me backwards. He towered over me, and the blades pressed to my throat. His foot launched my own tied swords across the room.

Hmm. I just got the shit kicked out of me. Father would be proud, I was sure.

"Last words may be spoken," the Arishok taunted. Ass.

My eyes cast around the room, meeting a concerned, green gaze of a certain elf. I had half a mind to flip him off at this very moment.

His mouth formed words. I squinted, trying to make them out. A farewell? Maybe it was, "You suck, Hawke. Learn to fight in the next life." Or, "Can I borrow five sovereigns?"

My head spun. I could barely see his face in these last few moments; my eyes were clouded by a dark, warm fog that formed holes in my eyesight. Would this be the end? Could I at least be allowed to see Fenris?

"Your knife!" Fenris screamed at me, tattoos glowing, and I blinked, feeling a warm ring of blood trickle down my neck from the pressure of the Arishok's blades.

Oh. Knife. I have some of those - but weren't they both across the room?

"You need some mint tea leaves," I advised, feeling woozy. "That breath of yours will give me nightmares, if I survive this."

"You won't."

He pressed his blades closer together, choking me and tearing my flesh. My hand moved deftly, and I knew I wouldn't survive this if I didn't stop those sharp, pointy, pointy objects from slicing my trachea open.

My spare knife, the little, engraved dagger that had been lodged in my boot flew up, splitting open his throat.

"Suck on _those_ leaves, Arishok," I said tiredly, but victoriously, as my head banged against the floor. The Arishok collapsed beside me, throat gurgling, his blade still pressing against my throat. I choked as a rush of liquid filled my mouth, spitting it out and forcing air into my lungs.

Unconsciousness never felt so good.

* * *

><p>"Should have gotten her here sooner..."<p>

"...half dead, most likely going to lose her left leg..."

"...extensive bleeding. Merrill, we could use your help."

"...lyrium..."

The buzzing. It wouldn't stop. Even as I steeped in the warm, tingly feeling that encompassed me, I was still irritated by all the voices and the ringing in my ears.

"Shhhh...sleeping," I drawled, trying to roll over. Chains held me down, weighing me to the table. "Unchain...me."

"...hallucinating, but she..."

"I have your lyrium..."

"Anders, do you think..."

"Shhh!" I said, louder this time. Couldn't they see my headache was killing me?

"You should leave, you're antagonizing..."

"_I_ should leave?"

"...done it before. How is this any different?"

"Mage, I will..."

"I'm going to put her under."

Someone touched my forehead, and bliss seeped into my skull. I hummed appreciatively, and once again fell into slumber.

I drifted and dreamed; the Fade worked wonders on my mind. In the Fade, there was Justice. Justice told me that the Arishok nearly killed me, but I couldn't remember.

My sister was there, too. She said I should probably wake up; I could have a concussion, and that was just dangerous. But I declined her offer to help me wake. It felt good to relax.

Hands touched me, cleaned me. I felt the healing, knew Anders' presence. My eyes burned. Everything burned. My skin sizzled, my ears popped, and then I was gone.

* * *

><p>"How do you feel, Hawke?" asked Varric Tethras, leaning over my bed.<p>

"Who let you into my house?" I griped, rolling over. My headache was splitting.

He chuckled. "Now, now. I know you don't mean that. I'm your favorite dwarf."

"You're the only dwarf I like."

"See?"

"What are you doing here?" Seriously, would these people ever let me sleep?

"Checking up on you, of course. You've been out of it a while."

"Out of it?" I repeated blindly, my mouth feeling full and soggy. I yawned. "What do you mean?" My leg hurt. I wondered if I slept on it wrongly.

"Hawke, you were nearly beheaded."

"Oh!" My mind made the connection. Arishok. Big swords. Right. "That. No wonder I feel like I've been dragged across a pile of sharp rocks."

"Sadly, that's the side affect of getting your ass handed to you by a giant weightlifter."

"It hurts to live."

"Hungry?" he asked cheerfully, ignoring my agonized comment. I nearly laughed, but thought better of it.

"Where's Fenris? His ass is the next I want to kick."

"We got you out safely, in case you were worried," Varric dodged the question.

"That's good," I said. "And Fenris?" After all, he had to be safe. I wanted to flay him alive.

Varric sighed. "Has been pulling his hair out since you've been incapacitated. He blames himself."

"Rightly so," I said. "I blame him, too. His ass is mine."

"I _knew_ you slept with him."

"I got him in the bed once, Varric. _Once_." I sighed longingly. "He's so angsty."

"Angst, you say?" Varric stroked his chin, leaning one elbow onto my mattress. How I loved my mattress. When was I going to renovate the estate? I wanted these everywhere, as I recalled. "Hmm. Brooding, angsty...I think I have a new character for my new novel."

I rolled my eyes. "I hope he isn't the hero. After all, it's never a good story unless the hero dies."

"You know me so well."

"How couldn't I? You're my favorite dwarf. Now leave me in peace."

"Anders told us that you are not to get out of bed today," he informed. "So the elves and I have declared ourselves your humble servants."

"Elves?" I blinked at the plural use of that word. "Isn't that a bit touchy for Fenris?"

"He volunteered." Varric shrugged. "I didn't make a big deal out of it. I think he feels bad."

"Whatever." I sighed, leaning onto my pillows. "Tell Oranna to go buy some fruit. I'm feeling the fruit right now. Fruit would be great. Do you like fruit?"

"I'll go get you fruit," Varric promised, leaving the room.

I fell asleep soon after, drooling onto my pillow.

* * *

><p>"Hawke?" a low voice woke me moments later. Or was it hours? I couldn't tell.<p>

"Leave me," I said into my pillow.

"How do you feel?"

I sensed a reoccurring theme, here. "I want to sleep," I complained.

"You can sleep, Hawke. I just wanted to be near you," Fenris confided.

I groaned. With a response like that, how could I _not_ pay him attention?

"What is it, Fenris?" I asked, feeling weary.

"You are very brave," he commended, sitting on my bed. "The most fearsome fighter I have ever known."

"Go to hell," I mumbled, pulling the covers over me. Flattery would get him everywhere, and he knew it. His rumbly, deep voice was my weakness.

Bastard.

A hand touched my hip, smoothing the fabric across my skin. "I thought you were dead."

"Me, too."

"This isn't funny," he said quietly.

"I wasn't laughing. It hurt like hell. Now shut up and get in here with me or leave, elf." I had grown impatient with his games. If he wanted to be with me, he would _be_ with me. Otherwise...

The bed sank, and he cradled my worn body to his, chasing away the cold that I hadn't even realized was there. I nuzzled into his neck, my nose scraping his smooth jaw.

"Tell me if you need anything, and I'll retrieve it," he promised. I hummed in response, preferring to lie against his collarbone, resting my eyes. I felt heavy. Warmth seeped from him into me, bleeding my shivers away with his presence.

"I just want to sleep," I said through a yawn.

"Then sleep, Champion of Kirkwall. You have admirers to greet later; we can't hold them back forever."

I nodded, not really comprehending what he meant. "And I want my damn fruit."

"Varric left to find some," he said.

I huffed. Yeah, right. He probably went to the Hanged Man and sent dear old Fenris up just to spite me.

I'd never get any damn fruit.

Settling against him, I closed my eyes, trying to relax. A fear welled up inside me, overcoming my tiredness and making me pull Fenris closer. What if he actually did what I told him to?

"Don't leave me," I implored, pressing my forehead against his neck and clearing my throat.

"I wasn't planning on it," said a confused, though determined, Fenris. He wrapped his arms around me, pulled me closer.

The fear couldn't be ignored. "Just promise me you won't leave, or...or die, or something." I frowned and bit my lip at the mere suggestion of him dying.

Fenris chuckled. "I promise I won't leave, and I'll try not to die, if it makes you feel better."

It did. I exhaled in relief, my fears momentarily allayed. "Thanks," I murmured, closing my eyes and smoothing my worry lines away. Disaster avoided.

"Any time," he said, tucking my head underneath his chin. "You need to rest, now."

I hummed in response, relaxing my body into his frame. "Oh, and Fenris?"

"Hmm?" he asked, his voice vibrating through me pleasantly.

"I meant to give Isabela all of my chocolate. Will you give it to her?"

Fenris laughed. "I can't imagine what for, but I will, if I can find it."

"Thanks."

* * *

><p><strong>What's your favorite kind of fruit?<strong>


	8. Infamous Interloper

**My reviewers have a wide taste in fruit. One loves mangoes, one loves lemons, one loves pears, another loves...orange gummy bears. I'm partial to rasberries.**

**I was going to hold onto this one for another day, but the reviews were just so yummy I couldn't help but post.**

**I know. I'm a weak, weak person.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight: Infamous Interloper<strong>

_Did you cut your hands on me?  
>Are my edges sharp? Am I a pest to feed?<em>

_Sufjan Stevens, "Enchanting Ghost"_

I walked into the room and immediately started to the nice, plush leather chair reserved for guests. Kicking my feet up onto the open desk, I leaned back into the cushion and waited to be addressed.

"Sure, walk in like you own the place," Aveline said dryly. "I don't mind at all."

"How was the honeymoon?" I asked distractedly. "You never said."

"You're right. I didn't." She placed her elbows on her desk, nudging my feet onto the floor. "This isn't the Hanged Man, you know. I have to keep it respectable." Changing her tone, she said, "What's biting you, Hawke?"

"Spiders, I think," I answered. "Isabela told me we'd find treasure. I should've learned better by now."

"Hawke." She stared at me, and I squirmed.

"Aveline," I sighed her name dramatically, running my fingers through my near-shoulder length hair. I hadn't been shaking it out as much lately, which was good, but I kind of missed the habit.

"Let me guess," she said with a smile. "Boy troubles?"

"I suppose you know the look of it from experience."

She laughed, and strands of her fiery hair escaped their knot. "You know it. Come on, what has Fenris done this time?"

"Nothing, I think," I said, rubbing my cheek. "I just... Aveline, we used to talk _daily_, and now...it's as if we've drifted apart. I don't know what Fenris is thinking, but I _miss_ it."

She nodded sympathetically. Of course she would understand; her husband had died. Although, this was different. Fenris was _choosing_ to ignore me. I really did miss him; I could never find him at his mansion, and he never stopped by. He took jobs out of town whenever I needed his help for one of my own jobs, and it felt as it he was avoiding me on purpose.

"I spoke with him the other day, if you care to know," she said sociably. I sat up in my chair.

"When?" I demanded.

"He called me over," Aveline stated calmly. "He wanted me to get the Seneschal off his back about the mansion."

"That's it?" I asked, disappointed. I held my head in my hands. "Of course that's it. But you _saw_ him. I don't even get the privilege of _that_."

"Actually, we spoke of more than just that," she said. "I'm not sure if I should tell you, since he hasn't told you himself, but I've put together that he contacted his sister."

I sat up and gasped. "No way!"

"Way." She nodded sagely. "He said something about gathering coin and sending out letters, and a great deal about Danarius's cunning and dastardliness. I just assumed, you know, since he exploded over Hadriana those years ago, that he had finally found his sister."

"Ugh!" I shouted, fisting my hands and punching the air. "I can't believe he didn't tell me!"

"He may not know how," she consoled. "He thinks it's a trick, of course."

"Aveline," I whined, "why wouldn't he tell me this?"

She shrugged. "He hasn't seen you."

"I call on him every day! _He's_ avoiding _me_!" I pulled at my hair. She went to speak again, but I dismissed her. "You know what? I'm going to go find him and make him come out with me. I haven't seen him in weeks, haven't spoken to him in longer, and for Maker's sake, he _owes_ me."

Aveline chuckled. "Go then, Hawke. And next time you come in, keep your filthy feet off my desk."

"_Keep your filthy feet off my desk_," I mocked.

"I heard that, brat."

* * *

><p>Running up a wall, I caught the side of a window, waving at the innocent person inside, who gaped.<p>

_Hmm. This is Hightown. Is anyone really "innocent"? We've _all_ had to kill people to get here._

I climbed to the roof; I wasn't wearing my usual armor, choosing instead to wear loose pants and one of my neglected blouses. This one in particular was a light green, and I worried about tearing it. It was my favorite.

I walked swiftly across the rooftops, leaping to his house and snorting. I'd like to see him escape me this time.

I found him in his study, reading a book. There was a pang in my chest at the sight; of course, I couldn't expect him to read only when _I _was with him. That was selfish.

Still. _Ouch_, Fenris.

I stepped over broken glass, and the stench of stale alcohol was thick in the air.

"For a man who claims to not drink often, there sure are several bottles on the floor," I said, crossing my arms and shifting my weight. He jumped into the air, dropping his book and spinning around, fists raised in the offensive.

"Hawke!" he cried, skin glowing. "I swear, if you were anywhere near me..."

"Like there'd be a difference if you _did_ kill me," I said angrily. "At least _then_ you'd have a viable reason for ignoring me."

Fenris sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Right. Forgive me, Hawke. I've only been busy."

"Busy enough to ignore me, but available enough to harass Aveline," I shot back.

He groaned. "I'm _sorry_, Hawke, I really am. This is literally the first moment of peace I've had in weeks, and I didn't want to bother you."

"You can bother me _any_ time," I said, walking closer to him. He sat down in a chair and rolled his head around his shoulders, popping his neck. "And I came to take you to dinner."

"Dinner?" he asked, closing his eyes and raising an eyebrow. "What's the occasion?"

"Hopefully, it's the day you stop being a jerk and start talking to me again."

His chuckle was low in his throat. "Will that really get me back into your good graces?"

I sucked in my lip to hide my smile, glad that he wasn't purposely ignoring me. "It might." I would have to ask him about his sister later, then. I didn't want to spoil a night out with Fenris when we hadn't spoken in a while. "I'll have to decide when it's over."

"That settles it, then," he announced, standing. He grabbed my hand and pulled me after him, taking the conventional way out of the house.

Which was, of course, the downstairs window. I giggled as he tripped out into the sun, leaving his sword, for once, behind him. I didn't worry about trouble; people knew our faces, knew we were dangerous.

Besides, I had enough weapons on me to stock an arsenal (even if I wore no armor), and few people made trouble in broad daylight.

Fenris wrapped an arm around me as we headed towards the best food in Kirkwall - second best, I thought, since my new maid could bake the best corn bread under the Maker's blessed sun. Still, dining in my house wasn't as fun as dining out. I would have to pull Fenris over for a good meal later.

"What have you been up to, Champion?" he asked easily as I nodded to a passersby on the street.

I shrugged underneath his shoulder. "Oh, you know. Killing people, harassing Aveline, falling for Isabela's crazy schemes. Also, there was this thing with Varric's brother..."

"I heard about that," he interrupted. "Is it true that he still had some of the idol?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "He told us that he sold it to some old lady, but we shouldn't have believed him for a minute. He still had it."

"The fool," Fenris said, shaking his head. "Never keep a magical item."

"Says the man who can walk through walls."

He rolled his eyes at me and pushed open the door to the Hanged Man. How did we get there so fast?

We sat in the corner and waited to be served, the action and movement of the bar surrounding us in a bubble.

"I missed you," I confided, leaning forward and holding out my hands.

His mouth lifted and his hands joined mine. "I missed you, as well. I promise not to be as absent, but I believe I've done much in our time apart."

"I'd like to know what's kept you away from me," I said coyly, looking around the bar. Where was the waitress?

"It's about Varania," he hesitated.

"Your sister?" I guessed, vaguely remembering the name. "Did you find her?"

"Yes...and no," Fenris said, wincing a little. "I found her whereabouts, certainly, through much cloak-and-dagger. It's cost me most of my coin."

"You had coin?"

"Don't mock me, Hawke, I'm being serious," he insisted, though his mouth curved. "I sent her letters, told her I was her relative. She didn't believe me at first, but I think I got through to her." He leaned forward, our foreheads nearly touching. "She isn't a slave."

"No?" I asked, surprised.

"No." He grinned. "She's a _tailor_. A tailor! My own sister. She's still a servant, to be sure, but not a slave. Can you believe it?"

I smiled at his joy, knowing that this small victory meant more than all of Thedas to him. "I can. She's made a life for herself, just as you have."

"I'm going to send her coin," Fenris told me. "As soon as I can scrape up the funds, I'm going to ask her to come here. I want to meet her."

"That's wonderful, Fenris," I congratulated sincerely. I would have loaned him the coin, but didn't offer. He would have been offended.

Besides, it would mean more for him if he earned the coin.

His eyes fell to the table. "I...wanted to ask you to come with me, when she does."

I cocked my head, wondering at his hesitant words. "I thought you would want to meet her yourself. After all, you said you've gone through channels to ensure Danarius wouldn't find you."

"Still, it would mean a lot to me if you were there when I meet her. If I meet her." He sighed. "With my deplorable gambling habits, it may never happen."

I laughed. "You can do it, Fenris. Fight the compulsion."

His eyes raised to mine, and something tugged at the back of my mind. "I'm not certain if I can. Varric is an enabler."

"I'll loan you sovereigns, if it comes to that," I assured, breathing in heavily. What was it? Something didn't _feel_ right.

_Why_ was my feminine intuition choosing to finally kick in _now_?

Fenris leaned away, still grasping my hands in his. "You don't have to, Hawke. I'll break this addiction, you watch."

"Fenris..." I said lowly, fighting the urge to look over my shoulder. Something was definitely wrong.

"Yes?" he prompted.

"I need to use the lady's room," I fibbed automatically, needing to get away from the table. I stood, setting out to the back of the room and dodging tables. The normal commotion of the bar had slowed down; was that what had been nagging me? The absence of patrons?

I didn't know. As soon as I reached the stalls, I blended into the shadows, using my rogue skill to camouflage myself. I wouldn't feel right until I had searched the place, and I didn't want to alert Fenris; he was _so_ happy today, it wouldn't be fair. I inched up the stairs, maneuvering my feet to make less noise.

Melting into the dark corners, I dashed about the upper floor, meaning to make the search a quick one in order to get back to him sooner. I was only being cautious; there would be nothing.

Only it wasn't nothing.

I leapt down the stairs, taking them three at a time. Appearing next to Fenris, I made him jump when I clamped my hand down over his arm.

"Fenris, we need to leave. _Now_."

"What's wrong?" he asked, throwing himself onto his feet. I shoved him towards the door.

"_Run!_" I screamed, knocking over tables and jumping over barstools. Fenris followed behind me until a gasp stopped him.

A woman blocked our path, her expression regretful and her mouth set in a grim line. "Leto," she said in a throaty voice.

His back straightened as he stared at the redheaded elf. "You," Fenris said, astonishment sweeping over his face. "You're Varania. My sister. I _remember_ you."

"Fenris, we need to _go_," I stressed, glancing over my shoulder. This wouldn't end well if we didn't get out _now._

Fenris cocked his head, far away from me in this moment. _No, no. Come back to me, Fenris_.

The woman barely resembled him, other than her eyes and the pale pallor of her skin. Her hair was a bright, fire-red and her jaw was soft and rounded. The biggest difference, though, was her lack of scarring.

"Leto," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"_Maker_," I sighed, shoving him. "Grab her and run," I ordered, drawing a short sword just in case. This was taking too long; things were too-

"Well, well," said a bright, airy voice from the stairs. My eyelids squeezed together and I gripped my weapon in my hand. "If it isn't my little Fenris."

Fenris whipped his entire body around, face disbelieving. The color drained from his skin as he realized who was entering the room, stalking down the stairs in a cocky, self-assured stride.

Makerdamned Danarius.

I knew who it was, even without the confirmation. His Tevinter slaves piled into the room in droves, and I knew there would be more outside. I shook with fury, my eyes darting around the room, looking for escape.

I would have probably recognized him anywhere. As soon as I saw him upstairs, I knew that he was no good; I assumed the worst, but it wasn't enough. If the stench of blood magic wasn't pungent in the air and his Tevinter soldiers weren't invading every crevice of The Hanged Man, he would have been harder to place.

If I didn't count his beard. His beard _reeked_ of evil.

"Danarius," Fenris spat, rounding on his sister with an accusing glare. "_You _led him here!"

"I believe the word is 'Master'," Danarius corrected easily, lifting his staff over his shoulder. "I presume that _this _is your new Mistress?" he asked, giving me a lazy smile and eyeing me. "Very impressive. The Champion of Kirkwall; not an easily acquired title."

I said nothing. I was frightened. More frightened of this than I was of the Qunari, of the Arishok, of the darkspawn. I knew we wouldn't get out of this, not together, and I knew Fenris wouldn't run. Couldn't run. We would never make it. We didn't have our standard weapons and armor, and even if we did, the two of us would be no match for his small army.

"You're smart enough to grasp my reason for coming, yes?" Danarius asked me, raising his bushy, gray eyebrows. His evil beard twitched; he didn't let me answer his question. "To reclaim my property. I do hope you aren't stubborn enough to keep him from me."

I closed my eyes again, trying to contain my temper. I couldn't be rash, or we would both be dead. My heart pounded, my temples throbbed.

"Not stubborn," I managed. "Though, wouldn't you like a drink first?" I asked weakly, gesturing to the bar and trying to buy us some time.

"Unfortunately, no," he declined politely. "We have a ship to catch, you see. It would be most beneficial to retrieve my dear Fenris as soon as possible."

Of course. A ship to catch. "Surely it won't leave that soon."

"But it will," he replied. "Within the hour."

Within the hour.

I couldn't think, not with all the deadly assassins in the room staring at me. Not when Fenris stood inches away, shaking with wrath. I planned out my next move several times, and saw my own - and even Fenris's - death. I knew if I died, he would continue fighting, which would lead to his demise or worse.

I couldn't let that happen. I wouldn't allow it.

So I said the only thing I could.

"Take him."

* * *

><p><strong>What color is your favorite shirt?<strong>


	9. Wait, What?

**We all have diverse taste in apparel; one reviewer's favorite shirt is the color of a dark teal, another's is blue, another's is red checkered, another's black with red corset lace, and...another reviewer is swearing a lot (bad habit, that). My favorite shirt is white and black, with a Hunger Games logo.**

**Thanks to all of you who review and those of you who are damn lurkers and don't say a frackin' thing. I love you all. Not equally, but the affection is there. It's pretty nice to get those alerts in my inbox, so...thanks. :3 I haven't slept in 42 hours and I'll probably regret posting this so soon, but whatevs. I'll let you guys know when the floor stops spinning.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine: Wait, What?<strong>

_"And all the thick books that you read  
>Will count for nothing in the end."<br>- Amanda Palmer, "Straight"_

Fenris turned to gape at me, stunned disbelief flooding his face. "What?" Pale as a ghost, I watched the dread fill him in the form of downturned lips, unmoving limbs, and dark visage. His chin dropped, his tattoos faintly glowing in distress.

Danarius laughed. "Good. I knew you were a reasonable woman. I'll repay you for this kindness, of course, when we return to Tevinter."

Kindess. How laughable.

"Hawke," Fenris begged, eyebrows meeting in concern. Desperation filled his voice as he addressed me. "You can't do this. I _need_ you." I met his gaze and attempted to look unapologetic.

"Danarius is a much more suitable master than I," I said blatantly. "You'll go with him, Fenris. I don't want you anymore."

His face fell as my words crushed him, my own throat in a vice.

_Make it through this, Fenris. You have to._

Any hope of surviving this as a free man fled him, and he looked away from me, unable to meet my eyes any longer.

My chest shuddered. I wouldn't blame him if he hated me, but I hoped he would understand. I didn't _want_ him to go with the evil-bearded asshole.

"I should have expected as much," he said stiffly, face angered at my disloyalty. My heart broke as he glared holes into the wooden floors of The Hanged Man.

"Excellent," Danarius exclaimed, turning to Fenris. "What will it be, pet? Will you throw your life away?"

He shook his head mutely, head lowered submissively. My heart broke at the sight. Headstrong, independent Fenris was now a submissive, lowly _slave._

_What have I done?_

"Perfect," Danarius said gleefully. "Champion, I promise to send something suitable after we arrive in Minrathous. Come, everyone."

They walked by me, Fenris trailing behind the bulk of the men. I wanted to catch his arm, to pull him away and escape. I couldn't. His eyes studiously watched the floor behind his Master, shuffling behind the mob of slavers.

I pulled out another short knife from within my pants and darted away as soon as the last man exited the establishment.

I had to hurry if I was going to pull this off. I ran down the street, barely holding my stride against the stone of the walkway.

Isabela. Where would Isabela be besides the Hanged Man?

I barely had time to ask myself before hands snatched me from the road, throwing me against the wall. I nearly stabbed her before she grabbed my hands and I finally recognized who she was.

"_Isabela_," I breathed in relief, panting. "I was looking for you. Please, I need your help."

She raised a black eyebrow. "Does this have anything to do with the mage who just walked out of The Hanged Man with your boytoy?"

"Yes." My words were stilted and rushed. "I need you to go down to the dock and stop their ship from sailing."

"Which ship?" she asked practically. I shook my head.

"I don't know!" I cried. "The one those slavers are boarding. Please, Isabela, I need you to delay it, to stop it, to stop _them_, anything! _Now!_"

"I'll see what I can do," she said, flabbergasted. I pushed her down the street with one more 'hurry!' and then ran to the Viscount's Keep.

* * *

><p>In thirty minutes, I had my companions assembled near the docks; Isabela was the only comrade who was absent, and I knew exactly where she was. Or where she <em>should<em> be.

"What's this?" asked Anders, concerned. Everyone had their weapons drawn; I had called on them without warning, hysterical.

"I sold Fenris," I said, my hands shaking. I couldn't lose him. Not now. Not ever.

Aveline's eyes widened. "_What_?"

"When you say you sold him," started an unsure Merrill, "do you mean you sold him a locket? Maybe a bottle of wine?"

"I mean _him_," I answered miserably. "Not something _to_ him. Please, we need to help him."

"_Why_?" asked Varric, disbelieving. "You're joking, right?"

"We would've died!" I cried, barely containing my tears. "We were outmatched fifty to one. It was our only chance to survive the encounter. We couldn't fight, and they were everywhere, and that damn _evil beard_-"

"Who did you sell him to?" Aveline asked, overcoming her surprise.

"Their ship was supposed to sail about five minutes ago," I said worriedly, wringing my hands.

"What the _hell_, Hawke?" Varric sputtered. Anders was silent. "Who did you sell the elf to?"

"I sent Isabela to stall them, but I'm not sure-"

"One downed ship, coming right up," Isabela announced, sneaking up on us. I jumped, bracing myself. "Don't worry. With that ship, they won't be able to sail for a month, and I have it on good authority that no other ship will sail towards the Imperium this season."

"_Thank you_." The relief was so potent, I nearly hugged her.

She only shrugged. "I like the elf."

"Do you know where they went?" I asked next, desperate to find him, now that he was out of sight. What would they do to him? I had already done the worst. I had broken him again, after seven years of freedom.

"Beats me," she answered unhelpfully. "I was busy trying to destroy a perfectly good ship." She sounded as if this task wounded her, but I didn't care.

"We _need_ to find them," I stressed.

"The _Imperium_," Anders said in a daze. "You sold him back to the Magister, didn't you?"

"The Magister," Merrill echoed. "The mage? The one who put the vallaslin on his skin? How awful."

"It's going to take more manpower than this," Aveline said carefully. "I'll go get the guardsmen. They could be anywhere."

"Thank you, Aveline," I responded gratefully.

"I'll get the usual hirelings," Varric said gruffly, shouldering Bianca. "We've got a month to find these bastards, and they can't be too far."

I nodded to him, then looked to the rest of my companions. "Please," I whispered. "I don't want to lose him to this."

They understood; even Anders grudgingly nodded, willing to help a man he could care less about.

"He doesn't deserve this fate," Anders said.

"He doesn't," I repeated, inflated with hope. We would get him back.

We only had to find him.

* * *

><p>It only took two weeks to deflate my hope bubble. There was no sign of the slavers in any place we searched.<p>

In the first week, between our different parties, we had searched all of Hightown, all of Lowtown, and all of Darktown. Beyond the first week, we had also searched the caves off the Wounded Coast. There were too many to count; each hole in the cliffs and mountains were mazes, neverending.

We wouldn't find them in time.

I couldn't sleep. Every moment was a moment they could be escaping; every time I closed my eyes, they could be torturing him. Killing him.

Sleep wasn't going to happen. Every waking moment, I searched. I wouldn't give up, and suspected I never would, if we didn't find him. I would follow them to Minrathous if we couldn't stop them from sailing, beyond that...

Varric and Orana made me eat. Merrill tended to my weapons and Aveline made me bathe. We mapped out the search routes we would take, planned our attacks when we finally found them, but mostly the hunt involved much walking.

The soles of my feet were worn, but internally, I thrummed with activity. There were only a few haunts left for them to be; we had checked nearly every cave along the coastline, every inhabitable crawlspace. We were running out of options, and if we didn't find him soon, we were officially stumped.

"There has to be somewhere else," I insisted stubbornly.

"There _is_ nowhere else!" Aveline shouted at me. "We've looked _everywhere_ for him, Hawke. What choices do we have?"

"We haven't searched _every_where," I worried, pacing across the room. "There has to be somewhere else," I repeated. "There has to be somewhere else."

"Leave her alone, Freckles," Varric cautioned, using his new nickname. After Aveline expressed her dislike for the nickname "Red", Varric had taken upon himself to think up new nicknames that pleased her. She wrinkled her nose at him. "She's shaken."

_Shaken, or shaking_? Both. I was definitely both.

"I'm not sure they're on the coast," said Merrill, her accent curling the words. "I mean, the rest of the caves aren't large enough for a Magister, are they? Tevinters are known for being grand, especially their Magisters. I would suppose they'd find a larger place to be. Maybe with a nice view."

A nice view. Large.

"Where do you think they'd be, then?" Aveline challenged. "The beach has a nice view."

"Of the chains, maybe," Varric huffed. "Are you sure they wouldn't be cliffside?"

"Aren't they sadistic?" piped in Anders. "I gather the Tevinter slavers are keen on low-esteem. I'd put the elf somewhere he'd have trouble escaping, or someplace he would be afraid to be in."

Trouble escaping.

"They'd be hard-pressed to find that kind of place," Varric mused. "I haven't seen anything Fenris is afraid of. Besides Danarius and heights, that is."

"Heights," I whispered, and it dawned on me. Fenris _was_ afraid of heights, wasn't he? "I think I know where they are."

* * *

><p>The Bone Pit was full of cliffs and easy falls as well as caves. It was as good a place as any.<p>

"Caves," was the only thing I said before I took off running in the direction of the caves, dodging burning carcasses and wood. Sand crunched under my feet and smoke clogged my lungs, but somehow I knew this was the right way.

Each step brought me closer.

I ran faster when I could see the opening; wild with anticipation, I drove my legs harder up the side of the mountain, determined to see Fenris safe.

Dead workers lined the opening to the mines. Any doubts I had before about this location were thrown out the window. The only thing I wondered at this point was how we had overlooked so many deaths so far - wouldn't the guards get involved in something like this?

I heard footsteps and someone grabbed my arm. "We need a plan," said Aveline, gasping for breath. "We can't just run in there."

I stared at the passage. "I'll go first."

"Like hell you will," she responded, her hand tightening its grip around my arm. "It's too dangerous. We'll formulate a plan when the rest of the team catches up."

"There isn't enough time!" I stressed, batting her hand away. "We don't know what they're _doing_ to him!"

"No, but I know what they'll do to _you_ if you step one foot inside that cave," Aveline warned. "And I won't let you sacrifice yourself with stupidity."

I sighed and leaned my back against a large boulder. "If you give me a ten minute head start, I can find him." When she opened her mouth to protest, I raised my arm. "Listen to me, Guard Captain. If we rush the place with one hundred of your guard and declare we're after Fenris, what do you think their first action will be?" I ran my fingers through my always-growing hair; it was just below my shoulders, now.

"I can't lose him like that," I finally stated, casting a sideways glance at her. "I'm sorry, Aveline. If you give me a ten minute head start, I'll have him secure and you and your team can bring in the big weapons after me."

Aveline groaned. "Hawke, if you die, I'll make Anders revive you so I can kill you again."

"If I die..." I mused, fingering my shortsword. "Varric will have a dull ending to his tale. I can't have that, can I?" I shrugged, pushing myself off the rock. "I just won't die."

"Sounds simple enough," Aveline agreed. She pulled a pouch from one of her pockets and handed it to me. "Just in case." Smiling wryly, she backed away, waving to the battallion of guards at the bottom of the cliff. Isabela appeared at the left of the rock I had been leaning on.

"If you _do_ die, can I get your estate?"

* * *

><p>Light filtered in from the openings in the ceiling, lighting my way. I stuck to the shadows, preferring heights to the bottom of the cave. I chose my path carefully, painfully aware of the few minutes I had to scout out the entire place.<p>

_Fenris, you'd better be in one fucking piece when I find you._

I saw the first guard as I peered over the edge of the beam I perched upon. I was glad that people seldom thought to look up at the ceiling. The slaver meandered around, not having a set destination. I sighed inaudibly.

Was _that_ how they trained their soldiers in Tevinter? It's a wonder that Fenris was such an excellent fighter.

_Fenris. Damn it._

I walked along the wooden beam, hoping termites weren't common in the caves. Leaping down onto a more stable rock surface, I started running. How many minutes had I wasted? Three? Five? How deep would they keep him?

Deep. The Magister preferred him to any other slave; they wouldn't want him to escape again.

I ran as fast as I dared, slipping a few times on the unstable stone. As I went deeper, I found more guards loitering around the caverns, and suspected I was getting closer. A gap met my feet, and I grabbed onto one of the great rusted chains hanging from the ceiling and swung across to the other side of the cave, unbeknownst to the slavers below me.

There were several openings in the cave, doors that led to old rooms or extra tunnels. I wished I had remembered where all the rooms were; my memory of the place was patchy at best.

I slipped down the rock face, cloaking myself with shadow even more meticulously than I had when I was out of their line of sight. This was no time to get caught; I was deep within the caves, well aware of the time slowly ticking away. My neck began to sweat. What if Aveline sent her guards in early? What if they were found outside, and an alarm was raised?

"Heard Danarius worked on the elf yesterday," said a guard to my left. I whirled around to glare at him, crouching deeper into the shadows.

"So _that's_ what he was doing," mused the other guard. "Glad I ain't him. Did you see what he did to his skin? I was down in the holding chamber last night on duty. Someone big must really hate that elf."

"I heard that he's one of the best fighters," whispered the guard. "Unmatched by anyone. It must be why the Magister put those markings on his skin, you know? To make him better."

"Looked fucking painful to me," said the other guard. "Anyway, I was just about to head back there. I'm on duty for Lorrain. Poor fucker fell off the cliff last night."

The Tevinter slaver laughed as the other guard nodded and walked back to his post, waving over his shoulder at the departing slaver. I scaled the rock again, subtly following the guard to his next post.

My heart pounded in my chest by the time he stopped moving, standing in front of a cracked door. He knocked on the broken wood.

"You in there, elf?" he asked, voice sounding hollow from within his metallic helmet.

There was no reply. The man shook his head and muttered underneath his breath.

We were in an old part of the cave; nearly every surface had leaves and dirt caked onto it, and everywhere I stepped something crumbled. Guards littered the place, and I spotted at least two or three wandering around nearby.

I held my breath and drew my sword, walking around the rock. As I planned on how to kill the first guard without being detected, a shout rang up from the other side of the cave.

"Intruders!" a distant voice called. "Half you lot go to Danarius, the other half come with me!"

My eyes widened. The guard I was about to kill took off towards the sounds of alarm, and I dropped down to the cave floor again. Two more guards ran to the commotion, but the one guarding Fenris only thrust the door open.

"Elf," he said. "Time to go."

I ran behind him, sword still drawn. I squared up the tip with the center of his back and slew him quickly; he dropped to the ground, life spilling out of him.

"Fenris," I said, wiping off my blade and taking a step into the small room. "I'm getting you out of here."

When I looked up, I realized that my eyes weren't prepared for the sight that greeted me.

* * *

><p><strong>What are you afraid of?<strong>

**(Please don't hurt me. I don't PLAN the cliffhangers (well, maybe ONE is planned, but it's later), they just sort of...happen?)**


	10. Wayfaring Wolf

**According to the reviewers, we hate needles, glitter, spiders, crowds, thunder, public speaking, the dark, and our funnies not getting laughed at (and it seems a great deal of us are terrified of cliffhangers!).**

_**I'm **_**afraid that you guys are going to kill me when you get to the third mini-cliffhanger in a row. Bear with me?**

**Oh, and the response to the last chapter was crazy! You guys make me want to throw in some random cliffhanger chapters just so you'll all review; it satisfies my evil bone.**

**(Yes, my evil bone is located in my pants.)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten: Wayfaring Wolf<strong>

_Should have known you'd bring me heartache_

_Almost lovers always do._

_A Fine Frenzy "Almost Lover"_

I inhaled sharply through my nose, nearly dropping my sword when I spotted him.

"_Fenris_." I gaped at him, my eyes roving up and down his tortured skin. "_Maker, what did they do to you?_"

He twisted away from me, burying himself into the muddy wall. My fingers finally released my sword and I stumbled to him, gasping when his markings began to glow.

It wasn't the fact that they had began to glow that disturbed me; it was the fact that they were glowing_ red _I was most afraid of. The entirety of his skin was bright crimson and irritated; his tattoos themselves were vermilion and fresh.

The color would have been difficult to see, had the room been brightly lit. Most of his skin was covered in dirt and mold from his stay in this small, wasted room. Everything smelled of piss and pain; the walls were blood sspattered, and Fenris sat naked, pushing himself further into the wall than I would have previously believed possible.

"Oh, Fenris," I whispered, dropping to my knees beside him, horrified. _How had this happened in only two weeks_? "I shouldn't have let this happen. I should have - I couldn't..." I trailed off, faintly touching my hand to his thin shoulder. He jerked away from my touch, hissing in warning. His tattoos burned brighter, but he made no move to attack. "Everything is going to be okay," I assured him gently, pressing my palm back to his shoulder. He shuddered.

"Fenris, come with me," I said, my palm ghosting down his arm. Wherever I touched him, he shook, always trembling. I didn't want to think of why. "Let me make this better."

He remained cowered against the wall, skin glowing harshly. His side was bared to me as his arms protected his head, and I was able to count at least three ribs in the near-darkness. I winced.

The sounds of running feet were coming ever closer to the hole in the wall Fenris and I were situated in; I kept my eyes level with his, trying to instill the idea that I _was not_ an enemy to him. He appeared to be running solely on instinct, curving away from any touch that had the potential to cause him more pain.

"Fenris," I said slowly, "if we don't go now, Danarius will take you from me. I don't want that to happen."

He finally looked up, my words getting a rise out of him. His green, bloodshot eyes met mine in one startled, frightened look.

"_Someone is in here!_" someone shrieked from behind me. I drew a dagger and threw it into the guard's throat, halting his stuttered cries.

I extended my hand out to Fenris. "Please, Fenris. We need to go."

He regarded my hand warily, but when the shouts and stomping feet approached, he swallowed thickly and grasped my hand tentatively. I pulled him up and we ran for the door, ducking out and around the corner seconds before the guards were upon the room.

I ripped open Aveline's pouch with my teeth and threw a fire grenade back at the room as we ran down the corridor, Fenris stumbling behind me in uncharacteristic imbalance. I sought out a different room as screams filtered behind us, the scent of burning flesh and smoke shortly following.

I stopped when we crossed a large room, spotting gear and weapons lined across the walls. I tugged Fenris behind me to the gear, pulling a wide, dark cloak from a hook and holding it out to him.

He had always been ashamed of his scarring, and I figured it would be best if his skin was separated from the world by at least one thin layer.

He stared at it. I sighed and opened it, releasing his hand. I help him thrust his arms into the sleeves and tossed the hood over his head, the material drifting down his body. He flinched when it touched his skin.

I grabbed his hand again. "We're almost out, Fenris."

We had only begun to run again when a voice rose above the din behind us.

"Leaving so soon?"

My heart stopped cold with simultaneous feelings of dread and anger.

"You bastard," I spat, wheeling around and pushing a stoic Fenris behind me. The gaunt face, gray hair and piercing blue eyes met my vision. "What did you _do_ to him?"

"Nothing I haven't done before," Danarius replied smoothly. "You, however, are stealing my property."

"He isn't property," I growled back at him. "He's a person. Maybe if you accepted that fact I wouldn't have to kill you."

"I'll enjoy watching you try."

I drew my swords and leapt forward, only to be pushed aside by one of Danarius's magical attacks. A growl stuck in my throat as he threw me across the room, banging me against a wall. A sharp, throbbing pain lanced up my shoulder, and I gasped.

"What's the matter, Champion? Too difficult for you?" Danarius taunted. "I must admit, your reputation precedes you. So far, I'm disappointed."

Quicker than lightning, I shoved myself from the floor and was instantly across the room, my legs drawing swiftness from an inner vestige of stored strength. My swords danced in tandem, striking at Danarius with daring agility. He blocked and retaliated nearly every one with his thick staff, even though I broke through his defenses a few times, cutting deep gashes into his pale, tender skin.

He pushed me away again with invisible force, and I went skidding across the floor. I heard him chuckle and take a step; my head spun too much to tell in which direction.

"This is insulting," Danarius complained. "I shouldn't have to waste my talents on the likes of you."

I took a deep breath to center myself. I had to get Fenris out of there; I would love to kill Danarius, but it wasn't feasible. Of course, I couldn't run when the floor was spinning.

"Fenris," Danarius said calmly. "Kill her. Prove yourself a slave worthy of my acknowledgement."

My eyes opened wide, and my head swiveled to see Fenris's reaction. He stood yards away from me, huddled in his cloak, staring at Danarius with an uncomprehending look.

I met Danarius's gaze, defiant. "He won't do it, Danarius."

"Won't he?" murmured Danarius, glowering at the elf. That was when I saw it; over his right shoulder, a shimmer...

"Kill her, slave," he commanded, glaring dangerously at Fenris. Fenris flinched and turned his gaze to me, a pleading look taking over his face.

He didn't want to kill me.

Well, at least we had that in common.

"It's all right, Fenris," I assured him. "You don't have to do anything this shithead says. I'm getting you out of here."

"If _you_ don't kill her, _I_ will," Danarius threatened. "I'll make you watch as I drain the life out of her. The energy I receive from her sacrifice," he hissed the words, "will be used to torture you. Are we clear?"

Fenris inhaled sharply, his eyes meeting mine. I shook my head. "Don't Fenris." Help was on the way.

But not fast enough. Fenris took a hesitant step towards me, and Danarius chuckled.

"Wonderful," he said. "Now we're making progress. Finish her off for me, would you?" He stretched his shoulders and popped his fingers, and Fenris took another step towards me.

Danarius saw me watching him, and the glimmer shuddered over his shoulder once again. He smiled and his beard shifted, and I watched him admire his handiwork. Fenris lunged, and I easily evaded him, jumping to the side.

How could he expect him to fight? He was dead on his feet; if this were a real match, I would have cut out his throat by now. Of course, it wasn't an even match.

No matter how many swipes Fenris aimed at me, I wouldn't fight back.

But that shimmer...

Danarius was lifting his staff when a dagger stabbed him through the throat; startled, he dropped to the ground, choking on blood.

Isabela stepped over his body, kicking the dying man. "I really hated that guy," she said offhandedly.

I smiled weakly at her. I didn't know where she had come from, nor how long she had been following me, but either way I was grateful Isabela was there. "That makes two of us." I rubbed out a sore spot on my neck from where I crashed against the floor. "Your stealth isn't as cracked up as you make it seem. I could tell you were following me the entire way."

"Sure you did," she said complacently. I walked over to where Fenris wavered, eyes shifting from Danarius and Isabela to me. I grabbed his hand again as if nothing had happened, and Isabela's eyes flashed over Fenris and I. "Get him out of here. We'll clean up."

I nodded and we were running again, me pushing Fenris faster. We were almost to the opening, and I spotted a few lagging Hightown guards securing the area.

"Hawke!" Aveline called to me. I didn't turn around, heading towards Kirkwall as swiftly as I physically could, dashing past the cave opening and out into the Bone Pit.

After a mile or two of running across the sandy paths, we were both panting loudly. Fenris was shaking again, his hand holding mine tighter as we stumbled along the road. I finally decided to stop when my chest felt tight, and wheezing was imminent. I guided Fenris to a tree-sheltered patch of ground and helped him to sit. We rested for a moment, catching our breath.

"How do you feel?" I gasped, touching the tips of my fingers to his cheek. He closed his eyes and shuddered, bowing his head to me. "Are you all right?"

Receiving no answer, I resituated myself on my knees in front of him. "Fenris?" My other hand met his other cheek, pulling him up to face me. "Will you forgive me? _Please_ say you forgive me."

I had a sick feeling in the pit of my gut that told me something was very, very wrong. His face was bright red, pained, and his eyes held no recognition for me. Blank. Docile.

"Fenris." My voice was soft, my fingers brushing his hair from his face. "Do you know who I am?"

He inhaled, casting his eyes to the ground in front of him. "Master."

I blinked. "Danarius is dead. You have no master," I said, my hand moving to the back of his neck.

Fenris refused to meet my eye, gaze firmly on a patch of dirt in front of his legs.

I clenched my eyes shut and sat back, running a hand through my own hair. "Fenris, what did he _do_ to you?"

"Master," he replied, and when my eyes reopened, he was bowing his head again.

My chest heaved in anger. "I'm not your master, Fenris," I snapped. He flinched, and I groaned, casting my vision to the heavens.

"I'm so sorry, Fenris," I choked, biting my lip, hoping the Maker would strike me down and end my suffering - _Fenris's_ suffering. "I didn't want this to happen. Not to you. I would take it back and _die_, if I could." I brought my head back down and caught him looking up at me curiously.

"I'm Marian," I said, poking a finger at my chest and willing myself not to cry.

He kept staring at me cautiously, and I knew my words weren't even registering with him. I sighed another sob, and reached my hand out again. "Are you in pain?" I asked, knowing it was futile. "Does it hurt?"

I gently touched one of the lines of lyrium and he gave a startled cry of pain and jerked away.

I took that as a yes.

"I promise I'll find a way to make the pain go away," I vowed, to him and myself. "But we have to get home first." I stood and held out my hand to him again, and we made our way to Hightown.

* * *

><p>It was nightfall by the time we reached my home. We managed to evade most of the nightcrawling thieves, and reached the house relatively unharmed.<p>

Well, one of us did. Fenris was still in pain; I could tell by the way he never rested on one surface and shied away from contact with everything. Even the soft cloth of the cloak I covered him with was probably hurting him.

"MiLady!" Orana exclaimed as she entered the room.

"Something to eat, please," I ordered miserably. "I don't think they fed him well." I was still haunted by ribs I had seen beneath his stretched skin.

"Right away, miLady," the flustered elf nearly ran to the kitchen, her nightgown flowing behind her. She must have been awaiting my return tonight.

She was a thoughtful girl, I'd give her that.

"That is Orana," I told Fenris, pointing at her retreating back. He watched her silently, his body betraying his tiredness with heavy inhales and darkly-circled eyes. I showed him up the stairs to my bedchamber, setting him down on the soft mattress.

_Oh, mattress. How I long for thee._

I immediately went to my bath and started heating water, not knowing if it would hurt him terribly or not. He shouldn't remain in filth, and I was positive his skin would become infected if I didn't clean it.

"Fenris, can you come here?" I called, heating the water until it was slightly warmer than lukewarm then doused the flame. I poured the water into the basin, stirring it with my hand.

I turned around to retrieve Fenris and jumped when I saw he was right behind me. He jumped back as well, bowing his head respectfully.

"Master," he addressed me. I sighed.

"_Marian_," I told him pointedly, containing the rage in a tightly locked box and repeating a controlled mantra: _It isn't his fault. It isn't his fault. It isn't his fault._

I left the room to retrieve a wooden stepping stool, and when I returned Fenris was contemplating the water in the basin.

"What will cause you less pain?" I wondered aloud. I could put him in the tub and let him soak, I supposed. If that didn't get all of the grime off, I would have to find something soft to scrub him with.

I stood behind him and assisted in stripping off the hood, sliding it down his sinewy, red arms and throwing it across the room. He shivered, and my eyes studied the red welts that were his lyrium tattoos. It was as if someone had retraced over his old tattoos with jagged glass, raking it crudely over the old markings across his skin. I hoped it would heal to form a pattern similar to the old one, or I would always be reminded of how I had selfishly sacrificed him.

I swallowed and pressed my hand to a clear spot on the small of his back, ushering him towards the cooling water. He resisted me slightly, but eventually I got him into the tub. He inhaled sharply when the water met his skin, but after the initial shock he relaxed, his head meeting the edge of the bronze basin. I sat down on the stepping stool at his head.

"See?" I said with a sad smile, watching the peaceful expression enter his features. "It isn't that bad." I stroked his hair out of his face, working out the muddy, bloody clumps with my fingers.

Someone rapped on the door with quick, timid fingers.

"Come in, Orana."

"MiLady," she said when she entered, nodding her head at me. "The meal will be ready in twenty minutes, and a few of your friends are downstairs awaiting your presence."

"Thank you," I said formally, taking a deep breath. "I'll be right down." I turned my head to smile at her as she left, but her back was already turned to me.

After I checked to make sure Fenris wasn't rising any time in the near future, I descended the stairs to find Anders, Merrill, Aveline, Isabela, and Varric in my foyer.

"Hi," I waved to them.

"Where is Fenris?" Aveline asked, walking over to give me a hug.

"I put him in a bath," I said, clearing my throat. I looked to Anders, thinking of the savagery wreaked upon Fenris. "I need your help."

"Anything," he promised, his brow furrowed in concern.

"I need you to make something to sooth irritated skin," I said hesitantly.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"It's Fenris," I whispered. "The Magister did something to him."

"I'll say," said Isabela. "His skin is all marked up - moreso than usual. Looks like someone flayed him like a fish."

"Please," I begged Anders. "I suspect it hurts him."

"You suspect? You didn't _ask_?" Varric asked.

I rubbed my temples with my pointer fingers. "That's another issue," I said. "Danarius did something else to him, as well. Actually, the two things might be related."

"Whatever do you mean by that?" Merrill interjected, resting her hand on my arm and pulling it to her, me along with it. She held my hand clasped to her chest, hanging on every word.

"Danarius wiped his memories." The phrase was forced through my clenched teeth. "He doesn't remember a thing. Well, it _seems_ as if he can't remember anything. He called me _Master_."

"Can I see him?" Anders asked practically. I nodded wearily.

"I'll bring him down in a few minutes to eat," I told him.

"The poor man," Merrill said compassionately, a sorrowful look on her face.

"Danarius was worried he would try to escape," Varric supplied.

"I'll be right back," I replied softly, troubled by the thought. Of course, if Fenris couldn't _remember_ anything of being free, why would he want to escape?

Fenris was still in the bath when I approached. I knelt at his head again and pushed up my sleeves, preparing the soap. I cupped my hands beneath the water, and when I poured it over his hair, he blanched.

"It's just me," I calmed him, running my fingers through his damp hair reassuringly. He relaxed again and let me wash the dried clumps of mud out of his white hair, soap pouring onto his shoulders. Most of the dirt and filth had been cleansed from his skin, but I was still wary of infection. I promised myself I would get him back in the bath later.

"Dinner is ready for you," I informed him. "I thought you may be hungry." He looked at me with a curious gaze again, and I motioned for him to sit up. He complied, and I helped him out of the tub and dried him off gingerly.

Turns out, his naked body didn't do much for me when it had this whole "tortured" look to it.

I retrieved one of my larger red robes, unable to think of anything that would hurt him less, as the cloak I had used to cover him before was still filthy. He allowed me to lead him down the stairs and to our - _my_ small group of companions.

Anders stepped forward, grabbing Fenris's arm. Fenris flinched away from the contact, leaning into me drastically. His skin began to glow a dull red once more, and I placed a hand on his face to try and calm him down.

My companions gaped at him.

"Andraste's flaming asscrack." Varric's mouth hung open. "That's different."

"This is Anders," I explained to Fenris. "He's going to try and help you."

"Does it burn?" Anders asked, touching the skin of his arm. Fenris recoiled, shaking.

Anders sighed and released Fenris's arm. "I don't know how much use I'll be, but I might be able to concoct something."

"Thank you," I said in a rush, grabbing Fenris's hand in my own.

"I'm glad they didn't do worse," Merrill said quietly. Aveline nodded sagely.

"Feed him, Hawke. I've got to go do damage control," she grimaced. "The Knight-Commander isn't going to like the fact that I took half the guard out to catch a slave."

"Then she can go shove her pretty little blonde curls up her ass," replied Isabela. "I'll help, if she doesn't know where her ass is."

"Isabela," Aveline chided, smothering a grin.

"I'll get to work," Anders said, raising his eyebrow at Isabela.

"Can I help?" Merrill asked hopefully.

"Sure, kid," Varric said, wrapping an arm around Merrill's waist. "We'll go help the doctor collect whatever he needs."

"I'll stand guard, if you want," Isabela offered with a sly smile.

"I think we'll be fine, thanks," I responded quickly, tugging Fenris into the dining room. "Really. I just want Fenris to relax for a little while."

"Whatever." Disappointed, Isabela crossed her arms and departed. Everyone else soon followed, waving their goodbyes. Aveline handed me a textured, clinking bag, and when I looked questioningly up at her, she just shrugged and walked out.

I sat Fenris down in a chair and went to collect a plate for him. Orana had prepared some sort of stew; it looked questionable, but I knew that Orana's cooking skills were unmatched. My only worry was that it would hurt his stomach, after being starved for two weeks - but I couldn't help that. I set his bowl on the table and handed him a spoon, hoping I wouldn't have to teach him how to eat, as well.

I didn't. It seemed as if he had retained a few memories, after all.

"Fenris?"

He looked up and met my gaze, pausing with his mouth open.

"You know your name, then," I stated intuitively, staring at his green eyes, wishing I could unlock all he had forgotten.

He blinked, closing his mouth.

"And I'm Marian," I pressed for the third time. I would have a fit if he called me 'Master' again.

Fenris pressed his lips together, green eyes troubled.

"Do you remember anything else?" I asked him. He looked confused.

I sighed.

"Finish your stew," I commanded in a quiet voice. "I'll be back."

* * *

><p><strong>What's your favorite overplayed song on the radio?<strong>

**NOTE: This chapter was named after FreddeGredde's "Wayfarer" on youtube. Go look it up. Actually, don't look it up. Here's the linkidink:**

**youtube . com/watch?v=BiXO6FwaNe0**

**Just, you know, without the spaces. UNFGH, I'd have FreddeGredde's babies.**


	11. Fixing Fenris

**Our favorite overplayed songs are as follows: We R Who We R, Jar of Hearts, Rolling in the Deep, Bad Romance, and the rest of us don't listen to the radio. My favorite overplayed song is "Smells Like Teen Spirit".**

**Thanks to LightsAurora for making me laugh with every review she gives. ;P**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: Fixing Fenris<strong>

_When you love someone  
>But it goes to waste.<br>Could it be worse?  
>Lights will guide you home<br>And ignite your bones  
>And I will try to fix you.<em>

_Coldplay, "Fix You"  
><em>

When I descended the stairs once more, Fenris's bowl had mysteriously emptied.

"Hungry, were you?" I raised an eyebrow and smirked at him. He gazed at his lap, abashed.

I refilled his bowl with more stew and pushed it towards him. "Eat the rest of it," I encouraged. "Orana is a terrific cook." I hoped that all the food wouldn't upset his stomach, but I wouldn't let him go hungry.

He eyed the offering momentarily, but gave into his hunger. Half of the bowl was drained by the time I took my seat and cracked the book open.

"We used to do this every night," I told him, and he paused abruptly, stew slipping out of his spoon and back into the bowl. "I'd go over to your mansion, or you would come here. We would talk for a while, and then we would read." I bent over the book, hiding my expression. I wasn't sure what I looked like, but I knew by the way my mouth twisted downward and my eyes pricked that I didn't want him to see it. "I thought...I thought it might help."

I began to read. Paragraph by paragraph, chapter by chapter, I devoured the book, reading it aloud for his ears to catch. I felt his eyes on me for a little while, but didn't look up from my book; after a few chapters, he resumed eating.

I was a quarter through the book when I came across a quote of the Chant of Light about Shartan, the escaped slave.

_At Shartan's word, the sky _

_Grew black with arrows. _

_At Our Lady's, ten thousand swords _

_Rang from their sheaths, _

_A great hymn rose over _

_Valarian Fields gladly proclaiming: _

_Those who had been slaves were now free. _

_Those who had been slaves were now free._

Was Fenris free? Danarius was dead, physical shackles null, though an iron grip held itself around his mind, choking his memories. Were they lost? Rettainable?

Could I have lost Fenris?

I shut the book in my lap and examined the cover, feeling this new reality sinking in. He was gone. The Fenris - _my_ Fenris - that I had known for years had vanished, replaced with an imposter.

Fenris was, for all intents and purposes, dead.

My eyes shut, clenching together. My chest heaved, holding in the cries that threatened to rip my throat. I threw the book away from me and jumped from my chair, needing to get away. Any place. _Anywhere _but there.

_He's gone. Just like her. Just like all of them. My Fenris is gone._

I ran up the stairs two at a time, spacing myself from the hull at my dinner table. I would only hurt him more with my presence, and it wasn't fair of me to seek him out for comfort. He just _met_ me, for Andraste's sake. It wouldn't be good for either of us if he saw me in this state, not now.

Oh, _Fenris_...

It wasn't even the fact that my Fenris was gone that _killed_ me; it was that he had died believing I didn't want him, that I sold him to an evil man for greed. I...I _gave_ him away. Maker, how did I _give_ him to Danarius? Where, in my feeble human mind, had I thought it right to let him take my Fenris? _How_ could I have let this happen? It wasn't feasible. It couldn't be true.

_Maker, it can't be true. Please let it be a sick, ugly joke._

Another sob wracked my chest, tore through my throat, and I couldn't hold them in any longer. I fell into my room, succumbing to weakness as I finally realized that I would never get the Fenris I_ loved _returned to me. Gone, gone, _gone_, like everyone else.

* * *

><p>When I rose, I couldn't determine if it was early or late. My head spun and my cheeks stung as I tripped out of my bedroom, disheveled and fogged with sleep. Some duty dragged me from sleep, nagging the edges of my thoughts, pushing me forward, down the stairs.<p>

I didn't recall what I had forgotten until I spotted the dining room. Fenris lay slumped over the table in an uncomfortable position, cramped and lying on wood. Soft snores emitted from his mouth, and I nearly smacked myself on the forehead.

"Fenris," I sighed. "Forgive me again."

_Selfish_. I shouldn't have left him there; distraught or not, I had an obligation to him. He didn't know any better; I was certain Danarius would have instilled the fear of a Master into him, and as far as Fenris thought, _I _was his new master. If I hadn't told him he could move, he wouldn't move.

_Selfish_. I walked over to him, looking over his skin again. Still brightly inflamed, but most of the dirt was off. His face was relaxed against the polished wood of my oak table, his eyes ringed darkly with exhaustion.

"Fenris," I called quietly, standing beside him. I didn't want to touch him, afraid of causing him unnecessary pain.

He didn't move; I lightly ran my fingers across his scalp. Would this Fenris be different? How many memories did he already hold? Was he a clean slate? He appeared to be perfectly Fenris, besides the fresh markings on his skin. I wondered if he would have the same defiant and arrogant personality, even without his memories.

"Fenris," I stated his name a little louder, and his pointed ears twitched. I suppressed a smile. "_Fenris_."

His head shot up like a straight arrow and he inhaled sharply, face bewildered. He blinked a few times, his eyes having trouble adjusting.

"Hey," I said softly, lacing my fingers through his hair again. "You don't have to wake up all the way." I dropped my hands to his, helping him push away the chair before standing him up. He swayed on his feet. "Just follow me, please."

"Marian," he mumbled tiredly. I grinned, clenching his hands tighter. He winced, and I backed off, but the happiness still remained.

He hadn't called me _Master_.

I was proud of him. He had understood me; the small victory gave me hope, hope that said he would be all right, in the long run. I led him up the stairs slowly, minding his clumsy, sleepy feet. It took a few minutes to get him there, although eventually we were on the second floor. I helped him to my bedroom; I guess I could have taken him to my mother's old room, but I wasn't ready to hurdle that milestone. Not in this situation. Besides, I was a selfish creature, and I wanted to be near him, even if he was only a husk of what my Fenris had been.

His robe was shed, and I directed him to crawl into my bed. I covered him with my soft blanket and he was gone again, his mind swept into the Fade.

Fenris would be my top priority, of that I was certain. It was my fault this had happened to him; it was my responsibility to restore his mind and take care of him. I wouldn't settle for any less; I owed it to him and would hate myself if I didn't.

I think I already hated myself.

I backed away from the bed, going to rest on a comfortable chair in the corner of the room. I felt as though Fenris had died hating me; it ruined me to think that his last memories were of me rejecting him. Did he know what I had planned to do? Could he guess that I had been looking for him? Tears stung my eyes again, and I swallowed.

He had died without knowing I loved him. Hell, it _took_ him dying for me to realize I loved him. The foreign feeling coursed through me hard, and I couldn't even _share_ it.

I leaned forward, my forehead resting on my palms._ So many questions_. I needed to formulate a plan. The first barrier that needed opening was communication; I wanted to talk to Fenris. I wanted to estimate what changed and what remained, if anything remained.

Anything else would have to come later.

* * *

><p>"Lady Hawke," someone whispered into my ear. "You have company."<p>

I inhaled and stretched my back, my eyelids fluttering open. "Thanks," I said, though it was muffled by a yawn. When had I fallen asleep? "I'll be down in a minute."

Orana nodded and, with a cursory glance around the room, departed. I sighed. Fenris was still asleep; I could hear his cute snores.

I quietly moved around the room, changing out of my old clothes and into a new set; I went for simple and donned one of my old, fluffy skirts and a clean blouse. It was comfortable. I wasn't planning on leaving the house today.

I met Anders on the first floor; he looked tired, but accomplished. He handed me a bottle of some sort of brown paste, and I held it in my hands, weighing it.

"You've been busy," I commented, turning the bottle over.

"You could say that," said Anders, rubbing his temple. "Varric and Merrill did most of the work. They supplied me, I put it together. _Viola_! Healing lotion."

"Healing lotion?" I asked mildly. "So, a lot of elfroot."

"Some elfroot, yes," he admitted. "Along with a few deep mushrooms, a few crushed crystals and rocks, and lyrium dust."

I stared at him. "And this..._won't_ give him infection?" Crushed rock? Deep mushrooms? _Lyrium dust_?

He chuckled. "Yeah, I thought so too, at first. I knew simple healing potion wouldn't be prudent for this sort of thing, and I also knew I would start with elfroot. Much elfroot, in fact. The deep mushrooms were added to help the long-term injuries mend, as the cuts on his skin were disturbing. I added fire crystal to stop any burning and I added frostrock to slow the fever he had. I'm hoping they won't cancel each other out," he finished with a sheepish grin.

I pressed a hand to my chest in relief. "Thank you, Anders. I knew I could count on you." I leaned forward and wrapped my arm around him, not wanting to hurt the bottle.

Anders chuckled uncomfortably. "Don't thank me until it works. Let me know as soon as possible if you see a difference."

I nodded and cradled the precious bottle to my chest, backing away from him. "Really, Anders. I didn't expect you to work through the night. It means so much more than this actually working." I smiled at him, taking a deep breath and turning towards the stairs. "I'm going to go try it out."

"Good luck," he said to my back.

"Go get some sleep, Anders. You deserve it."

* * *

><p>Fenris was on his stomach, drooling on my favorite squishy pillow when I found him. I groaned.<p>

_You're lucky I love you_.

A thrill shot through me as I climbed onto the bed, carefully holding the bottle so it wouldn't drop and spill. I wanted to tell someone; I _needed_ to tell someone. I was about to explode; my first reaction was to tell Fenris, but he didn't _know_me. Who else could I possibly tell?

I shook the thought; when I centered myself on the bed, I contemplated waking him up versus applying the lotion while he was unconscious.

I bit my lip, wavering. He needed his sleep, but what if Anders' concoction didn't work? What if it had the opposite affect? I wouldn't want him to wake up to that.

I woke him as I had last time, by running my fingers through his hair and calling his name. He gingerly twisted himself around to face me when he was lucid, the green of his irises trained on me.

"How do you feel?" I asked him when he was settled, leaning on one elbow and touching his hair. "Any better than yesterday?"

He swallowed thickly. "Marian," he whispered, looking down.

I tapped the bottom of his chin, and his eyes met mine. I smiled at him, encouraging. "Fenris," I returned. "You're a fast learner, Fenris, and I am your humble teacher. Everything will be fine." I waited a beat for him to laugh at my choice of word - _'humble_'.

"_Hawke, if you're humble, then I'm a dwarf."_ Something. Anything.

Silence. I cleared my throat. "Anders brought you a gift." I lifted the bottle. "Healing." He examined it from his place on the pillow, and I pulled down the covers until his entire torso was bare. I was taking everything slow; I didn't know what was taken from his mind, so I was operating with as much caution as I could. I couldn't afford any more fuck ups on my part.

Fenris deserved better.

He crossed his arms in a rigid stance, and I ran my fingers through his hair again to help him relax again. "Don't be afraid," I soothed. "It's supposed to help. You hurt, don't you?" My hand hovered over the scarred flesh of his arms and chest, making my point. "This will make the pain go away." I held it up again. His wounds _had_ to be painful; just looking at them made my own skin crawl with sympathy. Deep gauges filled with lyrium, possibly while they had still been bleeding to cauterize the wounds; I pitied the person whose mind stayed in tact after an operation like that.

Fenris blinked. I sat up straight, attempting a different angle. I popped off the cap of the bottle and swiped a small swab of the brown lotion onto my finger. A contrast of warmth and coolness radiated from the small dab into my skin, and I knew it would work. I felt the corners of my mouth lift.

_Anders is a genius._

I pushed my finger at him, showing that it didn't hurt me. "Feels good," I said. I looked down to Fenris's torso and tried to decide where to start first.

His arms were still crossed, so I decided to start there. I briefly touched the hand closest to me, unraveling it slightly. He didn't fight me, but tensed when I brought the lotioned finger to one of his tattoos. His skin began to glow a dull red.

He was alarmed and afraid. I would have to show him that there was naught to be afraid of. I pressed the soothing cream onto the small marking on his knuckle, spreading it around. He trembled slightly when I began to widen the range, smearing it over the entire back of his hand.

"See?" I poured some more cream into my hand. "Healing."

I pressed my handful of lotion onto his arm, and he groaned, his muscles loosening. I chuckled at him as his head fell back and his eyes closed, trusting me to take care of him.

"Healing," I said, watching the brown cream seep into his skin, dying it an unnatural color.

"Healing," he breathed tiredly, relieved that the pain was being eradicated by Anders' lotion.

I smoothed the cream into his collar bone. I felt his heartbeat underneath my hands, reassuring and steady. I was hopeful. We were both alive, and he was free and recovering. I spread my hands down his chest, over every inch of skin and paying special attention to the areas adorned with tattoos.

I rubbed him down slowly, not wanting to miss any inch._ My responsibility_. I pulled the covers down and swooped down his thighs, calves, and feet before telling him to turn on his stomach, not wanting to miss an inch of skin. He didn't respond in any way at first, so I prodded his waist a little. When his eyes opened, I made a circle with my fingers, and he got the gist of what I meant and turned over so I could work on his back.

All in all, I was pretty damn happy with what we had accomplished. When his skin was covered and the bottle was half-empty, I told him to lie still and went downstairs.

Orana had been cooking; it smelled as if she had prepared some kind of pasta with garlic for lunch.

"Orana, this smells delicious!" I exclaimed, walking into the kitchen.

"Thank you," she said bashfully, kneading dough. "How are you today, miLady?"

I took a deep breath of the amazing air and smiled at her. "I feel great. I'm glad to have Fenris back."

"I'm sure you are, miLady," Orana said, rolling the dough into small clumps in her hands. "I already have biscuits in the oven, but I overestimated how much dough I needed," she said sheepishly. "I'm going to save these for some other day."

"Oh," I said. "Good. Can you wait to serve this? I'm planning to pay a visit to Darktown."

"A dreadful place," she said morosely. "Please be careful, Lady Hawke."

"I always am," I replied, giving her a short hug. She tensed in surprise, but laughed when I released her.

"You're a strange mistress to serve, miLady," she commented before going back to her work.

* * *

><p>Fenris was still laying down when I arrived upstairs; I stoked the fire a few times before going to sit on the bed, examining his skin.<p>

Most of the lotion had been absorbed into his flesh, the strange color being taken with it. His skin, in most places, turned back to his natural pale, losing the inflamed look of illness.

I beamed at him. "Fenris, your skin is getting better," I said happily. His eyes cracked open and he watched as I walked around the room, gathering a few knives and weapons from odd places.

Isabela had helped me to hide most of the knives and such; her reasoning was, "_You never know when an assassin will strike. What if you're in the nude up here? It's nice to have back-up, isn't it?"_

True enough, but I didn't think I would ever remember where all of my weapons were located. I slipped a short sword around my waist and turned back to Fenris, only to find him sitting up in alarm. I cocked my head at him. "I'm going to Darktown," I said carefully. "I'm visiting Anders." I gestured at the bottle, trying to make a connection.

He eyed my weapons when he slid from the bed, coming to stand in front of me. I held back the urge to look him over, knowing it would be abusive of the situation.

_But damn, he had a nice body_.

_Resist. Resist._

_Be strong, Hawke._

"Anders," he said confusedly, looking me over. "You're hurt?"

"I don't need healing, no," I said, and pointed to the bottle of lotion on a desk near the bed, mildly surprised that he was speaking to me. So his reasoning wasn't_ all _gone; he made the connection between Anders and healing an injury. "Anders made healing for _you_," I clarified. "I'm going to thank him.

"But I'm beginning to believe I shouldn't go," I said, raising an eyebrow at him. "How do you feel?"

"Confused," he answered, closing his eyes.

"We're all confused," I said with a grin, poking him in the chest, my heart fluttering.

He rewarded my playfulness with a limited smile, and my breath caught in my throat at the sight. He looked so much like _my Fenris_ in that moment that my heart nearly stopped beating altogether.

_Would he come back to me?_

I cleared my throat. "Do you remember anything?" I asked, raising my brows with a half-smile. He cocked his head. "I'll send Orana to Anders, all right? I want to start helping you remember."

"Remember?" he asked. I nodded.

"Your memories were erased," I replied, grabbing his hand and leading him to the stairs. I called down to Orana, asking her to head to the clinic to do me a favor. I told her to tell Anders that his lotion worked wonderfully.

I almost informed her that a naked Fenris stood behind me, but contained the temptation. Orana said her goodbyes and ducked into my old tunnel to the clinic, and I warned her to be careful.

It didn't seem like too long ago when we entered the old tunnel for the first time ourselves. I didn't have much reason to use the tunnel besides emergencies, and Orana would be safest traveling that way.

I pulled Fenris to my upstairs study, sitting at the small table I reserved for reading, and started with the basics: I told him about our friends, what each of them looked like, how they acted, what they normally did all day.

I went slow; I began with Aveline, telling him about her red hair; I then went to Varric, who I described as "the dwarf with no beard", wanting to get a rise out of him. I received no such thing, and sighed and continued down the list of our companions. When I finished with them, I described Kirkwall; I detailed the landmarks and how Kirkwall had been a city of slaves until slavery was abolished.

All in all, Fenris learned many things. I had a sneaking suspicion that most of it was coming back to him, rather than my finesse at teaching. I was glad, nonetheless, that he was listening and remembering what I said.

I heard Orana enter quietly through the back entrance, I pulled out a different book than I had last night.

"It's a book," I answered his questioning look, sitting cross-legged in my chair. "A book about Ferelden, my old home. It's very different from here," I said, cracking it open. "Care to listen?"

He waited patiently for the words, and I held in my grin. He was so eager to learn, and his mind swallowed every piece of information I gave him.

I was so caught up in the process of teaching him, that I forgot to warn Orana that a naked elf was sitting with me in my study. Her bright blushing face served us our hot meal, and Fenris caught the look immediately.

"You're red," he said, eye catching the color swiftly and immediately associating it with his own ailments. "Are you injured?"

I burst into laughter as Orana bowed and scurried from the room, pressing her palms to her cheeks furiously. Fenris looked bewildered at her retreat and my amusement, and that sent me into an even greater fit.

Fenris was my silver lining, and the future didn't seem so bleak any longer. He was alive and progressing, and fixing him appeared to be simpler than I first believed.

* * *

><p><strong>What's your favorite color?<strong>


	12. Regretful Reminders

**Reviewers like: The color of Fenris' eyes, purple, turquoise, silver, black, cerulean blue, and green. I'm in the sandbox with all of you who said green, though I think Fenris' eyes should be included in that category.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Twelve: Regretful Reminders<strong>

_Don't carry on carrying regrets,  
>Oh no...<br>Somewhere, there's a room for us  
>To speak alone.<br>-Sujan Stevens, "Enchanting Ghost"_

"What will we do today, Fenris?" I asked, yawning. Fenris stood by my head near the chair, glancing around the room. I eyed his body, the lean, taught muscle underneath russet skin, the lanky frame...

_Is it hot in here?_

"I should go find you clothes," I blurted it immediately as it came to mind. _Bad Hawke. Bad. Mind out of the gutter._

He turned to look at me, and my thoughts flew out the window.

_Of course, it would be a pity to lose the view..._

_...but Orana would appreciate some coverage._

The flushed look of fever had returned to his skin quickly; it wasn't as bright as it was before, however. I stood, brushing off my blanket and heading for the nightstand. "Does your skin hurt? Do you need more of Anders' potion?"

"Anders," Fenris stated, following my actions curiously.

"Right," I said, grabbing the bottle of brown liquid and sitting on my bed. "Anders is the mage," I reminded. He had an excellent grasp on language, and it seemed to me like all of his intelligence was in tact. The only thing missing was the experience of _using_ that intelligence, his memories of certain places and people.

It was a strange precipice to perch on, but I tried to help him make sense of things he couldn't place, which mostly included people and our setting. I would catch him sending a peculiar look my way every so often and wonder how much he truly knew, if anything, about myself.

For the most part, however, I filled him up with random trivia about the places we'd been to and the people we knew. He would run out of the cream Anders had made shortly; I didn't know if the entire bottle would be enough for him or not, but I couldn't stop myself. If he was in pain, the bottle _had_ to be emptied; the angry red lines raking his skin was proof that he still needed the lotion.

Fenris frowned, and I motioned for him to sit beside me. He did so, and I dabbed cream on my finger, bringing it up to his chin. I smeared the cream around his tattoos, drawing the line down his throat, remembering all the fantasies I used to have involving the exact same line of white tattoo. Or florid tattoo, as it now was.

His eyes met mine and his brow furrowed. I sighed and massaged the cream into his flesh, starting at his collarbone and moving the motion down. His eyes closed after a few minutes as he exhaled through his nose, enjoying the healing of the balm.

"That does it," I muttered, my hands drifting down his stomach and my thoughts tottering around perverted. "I'm getting you some clothes. _Soon_." He had been inside my home for nearly a week, which was a fine place to walk around in the nude - I could speak from experience. But it was about time to begin reintroducing him to people, and making him do that naked would be...awful of me.

His eyes fluttered open and he looked down, as if realizing he hadn't been wearing clothes this entire time.

"And I want to teach you how to read again," I informed him, rubbing down the lines that snaked down his hairless, thin legs. "Don't you want to read for yourself?"

He nodded, leaning back onto the bed. I pressed my fingers against my temples, likely getting the brown stuff on my face. He would have to start talking _sometime_; I knew he_ could_. I knew he understood me when I spoke, knew he had a complete grasp of the language from his body language. I could only hope that when I began teaching him how to read he'd work with me, and beyond that...

Beyond that...

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><p>"Fenris?" I called, and he glanced up from his thin book questioningly. "I'll be leaving for a few minutes. Will you be fine here with Orana and the dwarves?"<p>

He nodded, following me with his gaze as I smiled weakly and departed. It was already midday, and the crowds bustled through Hightown as they normally did. I avoided eye contact with everyone, in no mood for a friendly conversation. The only thing that wore upon my mind was the white-haired elf reading a book in my house.

_Reading a book._ I shook my head. Fenris _still_ spoke only when it was absolutely required, but it was a start.

Elvhenan hadn't been built in a day, after all.

He had taken to reading surprisingly fast, and I could only wonder at what other scraps of knowledge he had kept from me. The possibility of him remembering more of his past had me jogging through the streets of the well-to-do of Kirkwall, anxious to return to him.

I slipped through the window of his mansion and was immediately bombarded with the sights, sounds, and memories in the place. The worn fireplace where we had lay reading books, the wine bottles cluttering the floor, the discarded, wasted books we had read on the stained carpet.

_We had been so close. He had been nearly healed - his mind, his fear._

_Now what?_

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><p>When I collected myself, I quickly snatched the first bits of clothing I saw and ran back out the door again, not bothering to lock it behind me. Nothing in the place was worth stealing besides a few book carcasses and forsaken masks, and I would rather a random burgler use the damn door than bust in a window.<p>

It might even be a blessing for someone to steal some of the wasted shit in the mansion. Fenris hated half of it, but had never gotten around to cleaning it out. I put that on the long list of _Things Hawke Should do in the Future When She's Bored Out of Her Fuckin' Mind._

At the top of the list, "_Think up a new name for the list_" went crossed. I would _never_ be able to think of a better name; my creativity for naming things had dried up after the third cat that had been caught and eaten by the Chasind. Carver told me it was doomed from the start; after all, what kind of person names a cat _Chicken_?

My estate was silent when I entered it, the dwarves surprisingly missing from the great room of my house. Orana was strangely absent from the kitchen, but I shrugged both occurrences off and climbed the stairs to my study, exhaling in relief when I saw him in the same place I had left him.

"I brought you clothes," I said, showing him the tunic and loose pants I had brought him. "So Orana won't be red anymore."

Fenris reached for the clothes, immediately shrugging the tunic over his head. I raised my eyebrows at him and handed him the pants.

"Did you remember anything else?" I asked.

Fenris reached for the pants and pulled them on, as well. "Words," he answered, staring at the floor.

"Memories?"

He sighed in frustration, sitting back down on the floor. "I don't..."

"Fenris!" Isabela yelled, making me jump a fucking foot. "You're talking! Hurray!"

"Isabela," I gritted through my teeth. "Fenris, meet Isabela. She's a pirate. From Rivain. She's here to kill me with her screeching voice."

"Or smother her with my boobs. I'm not picky." She skipped over to Fenris, and I was suddenly very thankful he was wearing clothes.

_There's a first for everything._

"Isabela," Fenris greeted carefully. "Nice to meet you."

"Wow," she said, a disappointed tone in her voice. "He really doesn't remember anything, does he?"

"I don't know," I said, feeling aggravated. "I was just asking him when you _rudely_ starting screaming his name-"

"It was a compliment," she interrupted smoothly. "Not every man makes me scream their name."

"Isabela," I moaned.

"And _you're_ moaning mine!" She clapped her hands together. "This is turning out to be a splendid day."

I shared a sympathetic look with a confounded Fenris.

"Is she always like this?" he asked.

"Sadly," I confirmed, still astounded at the way his speech came back. Was that all it took to make him more comfortable? A visit from a third party? Or was that just Isabela's charm? "I feel idiotic."

"Why?" he asked, frowning.

"Because I spent all damn day teaching you stuff you would have already known," I grumbled, taking a seat in a chair. "You'll meet them all within the next week, probably."

"You could take a break," Isabela offered. "_I_ could teach him a few things." Her eyes traveled down his lanky frame suggestively, and I held back a groan.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" I griped, watching Fenris take a seat on a rug and pick up his book again.

"I _did_," she declared, throwing a stack of papers at me. "I got your mail for you."

I raised my eyebrow. Bodhan usually retrieved my mail for me, but Bodhan hadn't been inside my home since daybreak. "How generous."

She winked an eye at me. "And I wanted to see how our elf boy is holding up."

"You stole my mail from Bodhan...so you could see Fenris?"

"Yup," she confirmed, then gave Fenris a small wave. "It's not every day someone's memories are wiped by magic."

"You could have just knocked on the door," I muttered, miffed. "Or snuck in, like you usually do."

She shrugged, not meeting my gaze. "I decided to be thoughtful."

I snorted.

"What?" she asked defensively, tugging up a sagging boot and coming to stand next to my seat. "I can't be thoughtful?"

I snorted again, and she sighed. "You wound me, Hawke."

"Marian," Fenris said, grabbing our attention.

"Yes?" I prompted when he said nothing, turning a page in the book with furrowed eyebrows.

"She called you Hawke," he replied, looking up at me through his bangs. "Your name is Marian."

"How sweet," Isabela commented. "A first name basis."

"Shut up, whore," I teased, quoting Aveline. She groaned.

"Why does Aveline have to be such a stick in the mud?" Isabela complained.

"I'm not a stick in the mud," said Aveline, walking through my study door.

"Does no one knock?" I asked the air, waving my arms over the side of the chair. "Or is my door a figment of my imagination?"

"I'll tell you something that doesn't exist," she said tiredly. "Danarius's body."

I straightened my posture at the utterance of his name, my feet stomping the floor loudly. Fenris watched the scene carefully, closing the thin children's book he had been reading and setting it on the floor.

"What do you mean?" I asked, all teasing dissipated. "He can't be alive; I saw Isabela kill him. Her knife went through his neck." An awful feeling settled within my chest. Danarius alive? Fenris wasn't able to defend himself yet; I wasn't prepared to fight Danarius, wasn't prepared to kill him. Fenris deserved that honor, had always deserved it, but right now-

"Stop," Aveline commanded calmly. "Whatever you're thinking. Stop. This doesn't mean Danarius survived."

I looked to Isabela. "When we ran from the room, what did you do?"

"I doubled back," she said hesitantly, stepping towards my bookcase and away from us. "There were more of his soldiers in the tunnels, and I helped deal with them."

"You didn't watch Danarius?" I asked, incredulous.

"Did _you_?" she shot back, glaring at me over her shoulder. "I wasn't going to watch a dead man lie."

"_Was_ he dead?" Aveline asked after a few moments of silence.

"My knife went through his throat," she stated, swallowing. "I don't know how he could have survived, if he even did."

"Maybe he didn't," I said coolly. "Maybe some soldier took his body."

"But why?" Aveline asked. "And how? I had guards posted at every exit."

I wracked my brain, rubbing my temples. "I don't know! But I refuse to acknowledge the possibility that a man whose death I _witnessed_ is still walking around!" I shook my head. "It's impossible. It was a fatal wound."

Aveline sighed. "We're just on the look out for a body, Hawke, not a man."

"Marian," Fenris said quietly; I was the only one who caught the whispered word, and watched him as he stood and walked to my side.

"Fenris." I reached a hand out to him, and he took it in his own, warming the chills I didn't know I even had.

"How is he doing?" Aveline asked, watching our interaction.

"It's coming to him," I informed her. "And quickly, too. He's already reading, and he's begun talking to me. I haven't had the chance to question him today, as we've been interrupted." I shot both Isabela and Aveline pointed glances.

"It's not my fault she had to come in here and steal my thunder," grumbled Isabela as she leaned against my shelves. "_I_ was going to tell you this rumor."

"How did _you_ find out?" Aveline asked, outraged. "It was a well-kept secret!"

"Well-kept," Isabela laughed sardonically. "Donnic told Varric over a game of Wicked Grace, and I overheard. As did half the bar."

Aveline sighed, shaking her head. "Donnic. I love him to death, but sometimes he makes me feel like a fool."

"You're always a fool," Isabela taunted. I threw a cushion at her head with my free hand, and she dodged it.

"You two play nice or I'll kick you out," I threatened, turning to my mail. I sifted through random letters of Ferelden people looking for a way into the city and from shops asking me to buy their wares until I finally came upon something of use.

I hummed, raising my eyebrows at the thin white sheet of paper and releasing Fenris's hand. "Meredith wants to see me."

"Pardon?" asked Aveline.

"Ouch," Isabela said. "Watch out. It might be a trap. That woman wants everyone to die these days."

Fenris took a step closer to me, stiffly wrapping an arm around the back of my chair.

Isabela smirked, her keen eyes catching the movement. "He's defensive of his woman already? You know how to hook them, Hawke."

Ignoring her, I searched the letter for anything that would give me a hint as to what the Knight-Commander would want from me, but found nothing.

"I'll see her tomorrow," I told them, setting down the letter. "I have done nothing wrong." Rethinking the statement, I added, "Recently."

"I can't imagine what she wants," Aveline mused, crossing her arms. "Are you sure you want to wait?"

"Fenris is my priority for right now," I said. "Meredith is the least of my concerns."

Aveline sighed. "I worry for the future of this city-state, with no one to govern. Meredith would take the title of Viscount for herself, if she could." She eyed me. "There have been murmurs about _you_ taking the title."

"Rumors," I dismissed. "I have no interest in the petty politics of this city. They're all nuts."

She shook her head at me. "Goodbye Hawke," she nodded at Fenris, "Fenris." She backed away, but hesitated. "I'll be going to the caves personally to search them for anything suspicious. You are welcome to come along, if you wish to see it for yourself."

I nodded at her, and she continued her way out.

When Aveline departed, Isabela huffed. "Notice she didn't say goodbye to me?"

"You were supposed to leave with her," I suggested snidely, leaning into Fenris.

"Angling for time alone?" she asked with a wanton smirk.

"Angling to get you out of here before I have to kick you out," I threatened, standing. "I wanted to speak with Fenris."

"Can't catch a break," Isabela muttered. "Whatever, Hawke. You owe me a drink."

"For what?" I called after her retreating figure.

"For getting your mail!"

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><p>"Now you've officially met Aveline and Isabela," I prompted Fenris with a small smile, standing and taking his hands.<p>

He was quiet for a moment, and then: "Have I met them before?"

I nodded, wondering at the new intensity his eyes expressed to me. I swallowed thickly, trying to assess his feelings and coming up with nothing to describe the look. What was he remembering? "You have. Do you remember them?"

He didn't answer me, but pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me and inhaling. "It isn't...I don't think it's a _memory_," he said into my hair. I pressed my face into his collarbone, happy with the new contact. What had brought on such affection? "It's more like...a feeling."

"A feeling?" I asked, sliding my own arms around his thin frame and holding him to me, minding the pressure of my skin against his.

"A feeling," he repeated. "Aveline makes me feel secure. Isabela makes me feel old." I laughed at that, identifying with the feeling. Isabela _was_a young spirit. "And she leaves the taste of sea salt on my tongue."

"And me?" I asked with a grin, a little curious. What did _I_ leave on his tongue?

_Perverted._

"I feel as if I do not wish to release you, for fear you will escape me."

"Then don't," I sighed into his tunic. He grasped me tighter to him.

"Why do I feel like I _know_ you?" he asked.

"Because you _do_ know me," I responded. "Your memories were erased by Danarius."

"Master," he said, and I abruptly shoved him away from me, feeling slightly guilty when he winced from the force of my push.

"He is not your master," I spat. "He is a vile, cruel, _dead_ man."

"Marian," he beckoned me back into his arms, and I couldn't resist the draw. "I'm sorry."

I stared at him a moment, driving the point home. If he stayed with me, I couldn't have him referring to _anyone_ as 'master' - least of all Danarius. _Who is dead._ "Don't be sorry," I said, allowing him to hold me again. "It isn't your fault. Danarius...it's his fault. I'm just angry this happened to you."

We stood like that, embracing in my study, for an indeterminable amount of time. I listened to his steady heartbeat, to his breathing, and felt overwhelmingly happy.

_My Fenris is coming back. Well, part of him._

"Are you tired?" I asked, feeling strangely lightheaded.

"I don't want to let go," he confided, holding me tighter.

"Let's go lie down," I offered, "instead of just standing here."

He nodded and I wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we headed to my bedchambers. I discarded my shoes and we fell onto the bed, snuggling again.

"How do you feel?" I whispered, clutching his hands between us.

"Confused," he responded. "I don't know you, but I _do_ know you. I want to be closer to you, even though I've only known you a short time."

"That _does_ sound confusing," I sympathized. "I'm certain your memories will completely return in time."

"You're certain?" he asked hopefully.

"You've had your memory wiped before," I hedged. "They returned slowly, I think, after that." I remembered Fenris meeting his sister, how he remembered her when he saw her. "Maybe different things will trigger your memories, and we just have to find the keys." _Or we just have to wait a decade._

He sighed, and I pressed my face into his neck, closing my eyes. "I hope that's true," he said.

"Me, too," I responded, feeling only slightly guilty. If he remembered everything, would he hate me?

"Meeting you for the first time is one thing I would want to remember," he said, rolling onto his back. I followed his lead, snuggling into his warm shoulder.

I smiled against his skin. "It's not so much that as I want you to remember the times we've shared together," I said. "Times like this." I kissed his skin, wary of the lightening tattoos that curved around the skin there.

"Were we close?" he asked.

"I like to think we were," I said, hating the use of past-tense with that sentence. It left a foul note in my throat, a flat sound. I wrapped my arm around his torso lightly. "I enjoyed your company very much."

_Understatement? Yes._

"I wish I could say the same," he said wistfully, his words vibrating through my arm comfortingly. "How did we meet?"

"Why do you want to know?" I asked, my lips upturned.

"Perhaps it will be...a trigger? Is that what you called it?"

I shrugged. "I was just guessing, Fenris. I don't want to give you false hope." I sighed. "You may not remember anything at all. I'm no witch or mage, and I have no idea what kind of magic it took to brand you and erase your memories."

He inhaled to speak, but I beat him to it. "But," I continued. "I still wouldn't mind telling you," I said, kissing his throat. "If you really want to know, I can't see how it would hurt anything."

"Is it a long story?" he asked, his arm snaking around my back.

"We've known each other for years," I said, placing a hand on his chest. "But how we met isn't a long story. Our adventures together might be different." I chuckled. "We've gotten ourselves into sticky places before."

I glanced up at his face, thinking of how gaunt it had been. He didn't look as scrawny as he had, but I was still wary of the malnourished look his body had taken on.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, whispering against his skin. "Thirsty?"

His gaze lingered on my eyes, dark and contemplative. "You're too kind to me; it's baffling. It's not how a master should treat a slave."

"You aren't a slave," I interjected. "And I'm no one's master."

"So I realize," he said with a infinitesimal smile. "I'm grateful to you for rescuing me."

"I'm glad you're alive." _If that's what you are. I'm sorry, Fenris._ "I was worried I would be too late to save you." _I _was_ too late._

"I'm whole," he agreed. "If you don't count my memories, that is," he included as an afterthought.

_I do._

We were silent a moment before I said, "Do you still want to know about how we met?"

"Please," Fenris confirmed, and I kissed his shoulder again. I wondered if I had actual affection for this Fenris, or if it was only my projections from _my_ Fenris latching onto this one.

"You should go meet Varric," I said, changing my train of thought before it upset me. "He's an excellent story teller, and I'm his favorite heroine."

"Will you take me?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of course," I said, smoothing the wrinkles in his tunic. "This is the first time I've ever had to tell anyone this story."

I took a deep breath and began to recite the message I had received from my first contact in the city, informing me that I had a new client, a dwarf named Anso. How little I knew, considering Anso wasn't my client at all.

The story was finished eventually; the fire in the fireplace was dying out, and though I knew it was starved, I didn't want to move from where I was positioned. Fenris and I would find warmth in our mutual embrace. I was telling him how he accepted my invitation to join our little band of misfits when I heard a slow, deep snore erupt from his lungs, shaking me with the sound waves and silent laughter.

I closed my eyes, listening to his heartbeat and trying to find sleep for myself. Today had been a day for many firsts; or seconds, depending on how you looked at it. Fenris had learned to read again, he had spoken with me, had shown affection to me, and had worn real clothes. I _assume_ that he had done all of these before, but has no memory of them. I was ready for the day of firsts to be done with so I could enjoy normality with my Fenris again.

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><p><strong>If you existed in the Dragon Age universe, where would you live?<strong>

**Ugh. Edit, edit, edit again, and I'm **_**still**_** unhappy with this chapter. Tell me what you think; I have half a mind to redo it. AGAIN.**


	13. Cave Claustrophobia

**We would like to live in the Donarks, with Alistair and Fenris, and Ferelden. As ironic as it is, I would live in Tevinter. I would have a broody elf close at hand...**_**glistening**_**.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen: Cave Claustrophobia<strong>

_So dawn goes down to day.  
>Nothing gold can stay.<em>

_Robert Frost_

"This doesn't look like a drink," Isabela complained, sitting down on a rock and tugging off her boot. Small rocks and sand fell from it when she turned it over. "I'd say this is almost the opposite, if you asked me."

"No one asked you," I said, snatching her eyeglass from in between her bosoms. "We're nearly there."

"We're searching for Danarius?" Fenris asked, looking up at the heated sky.

"We're here to find his body," I corrected. "Danarius is dead."

"Of course he is," Aveline said shrewdly. "What else would he be?"

"Alive," offered Isabela. "You know, if I hadn't _stabbed him in the neck_."

"And what if he is _not _dead?" challenged Fenris, wiping the sweat from his brow with a gauntlet-covered hand. I found armor in the bag that Aveline had handed me the night we found Fenris; it was _his_ armor. I don't know where she found it, but I was grateful that she had given it to me. I didn't_ expect _to find any hostiles, but I was sometimes wrong.

_Maybe a little more than sometimes._

I should have left him at my home, but I was too selfish. If he remembered anything, I wanted to be _there_.

Besides, I felt better with him at my side. He was always at my back, protective and watching; maybe he was a little less cranky than he used to be, but I could handle that minor change. He was civil with everyone, and I sort of missed the asshole he used to be.

_Stop being selfish and accept him, Hawke,_ I told myself. _You're responsible for him until he is stable enough to be on his own._

The truth was, however, that I didn't _want_ to be "responsible" for him. I wanted him to need me, to want me. I wanted him to live with me in my house, to be stable and happy and loved by me.

I blinked, considering that as the eyeglass wavered in my hands. I loved this Fenris, too, didn't I? I supposed I couldn't help myself. He wasn't _my_ Fenris, but I slowly acclimated myself to this new, untempered Fenris, even though it felt like cheating. Didn't I deserve the small happiness of his arms?

I could answer that honestly: No. I didn't deserve the most miniscule favor from this strong, betrayed man. He had overcome so much since I found him in a rotten, foreign cave, unresponsive and uncomprehending. He insisted on addressing me as "Marian", which I partly blamed myself for. I forced my name onto him in replacement of "Master" - not that I was complaining. Anything would be better than him calling me "Master"; I would _not_ stand equal with Danarius in his mind.

He wasn't the Fenris he used to be; he wasn't tortured, or angry, or even stressed. He was calm and at peace, like the eye in the center of a hurricane, or a Chanter reciting their text from memory to a group of earnest, attentive children. Wasn't this better for him? He was still stingy and tentative with his smiles and had a striking protective streak, but he was relatively happy, wasn't he?

I would only have to see.

"If he isn't dead, then Isabela will have to stab him in the neck again," I said, shutting the small scope and tossing it in Isabela's direction.

"My pleasure," she laughed, tugging her boot back on her foot. "I take it the break is over?"

"Why did you bring her along?" groaned Aveline. "I would have preferred having to put up with Varric."

"You two should get along," I counseled. "Isabela is a talented fighter."

"She's a whore," growled Aveline. "A slattern, a thief, and a liar."

"And you're a stick in the mud," I shot back. "I wouldn't have her here if I didn't trust her." _To a point. How far can I throw Isabela, again?_

"I trust your judgment," she said reluctantly. "But that doesn't mean I must like her."

I tugged on her red ponytail playfully. "That's all I'm asking for, Freckles."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes at me. "I'm going to strangle Varric for all of these ridiculous names."

"If you would think of one yourself, he wouldn't be left to his own devices," I said, grinning. "He'll keep going until he drives you mad."

"Isabela may beat him to it," she laughed.

"I heard my name," Isabela called from where she lagged behind us. "It better be something nice - or dirty. Actually, I believe I like the sound of the dirty part. Drop the nice."

"I see the caves," I said, shielding the sun from my eyes. "Let's hope we don't find something creepy in there."

It was surreal, being inside the caves again, so soon after rescuing Fenris. I could feel the desperation bubbling beneath my skin, an itch which craved Fenris and safety and home. As we progressed into the humid, earthy caves my breathing grew more and more shallow.

A warm hand touched my arm. "Are you all right?" Fenris whispered.

I gave a short, succinct nod. I would be all right. I observed his russet face for any kind of insecurity or hesitancy, and found none. If he could be strong about this, so could I.

"He's a dead man," I said. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

"What are you two hissing about?" Isabela whispered, breaking our trance with a wry smirk on her face. "I like secrets - can I tell you one of mine?"

I rolled my eyes at her and walked ahead. "We're on a mission, Isabela. Can it wait?"

"But it's exciting!" she insisted, grinning. "I wouldn't have brought it up if I didn't think it interesting."

"Few things about you aren't exciting, Isabela," Fenris said, throwing her a bone. She winked at him.

"Few things are clean about her, as well," Aveline said from the front of the group.

"I took a bath!" Isabela protested. "I _did_!" she insisted when Aveline raised her eyebrow. "And Anders treated me."

"Recently?" Aveline challenged.

"...maybe," Isabela hedged. "But that's not what matters. What matters is that I have a _secret_."

"It won't be a secret if you tell us," I said, ducking through a low door. Had it always been there? I guess I wouldn't have known; the last time I had torn through the place, I had scaled the walls the entire way. Doorways were too limiting.

"But then it would be an even bigger secret," she defended. "And you would feel pressured to keep it."

"Fine," I said, vowing to be the bigger person in all of this. "What's your secret?"

But Isabela wasn't paying attention to me; she had wandered across the room to a rack of weapons and fingered a cruel, curved blade hooked onto the wall. "This looks fun," she said, sliding her finger down the cutting edge. "Not too sharp, though. Too bad."

"It was well used," Fenris said, voice turned cold and taciturn, much like his old self. I didn't look at him and ignored the blade, unwilling to admit to myself what his words would mean. If I pretended it didn't happen, I wouldn't have to face the fact that it _did_ happen.

Isabela left the knives alone after that, and we continued onward. Rotting bodies littered the ground, and the harsh, awful smell sent a wave of vertigo through my head.

"A stench this big is bound to attract some attention," I cautioned distractedly, pulling out my thin long sword and glancing around the putrid tomb. I didn't see anything hostile, but my assessment meant nothing.

"Nothing suspicious so far," Aveline said. "The bodies are where they fell, but we're not here for them."

She was right, and we were almost to the room where Danarius died. I shifted, nervous, constantly looking over my shoulder and feeling stupid.

_You saw him die_, I reminded myself. _No one comes back from that kind of wound - not even Danarius._

So why was I so jittery? Maybe it was because I expected scavengers; this massive stink usually invited the usual wild dogs and other animals to the scene, but they were curiously absent. Perhaps it was because we were so deep inside the mountain, but I was unsure. The hairs at the base of my neck stood on end as we finally broke into the room where Isabela stabbed Danarius.

As predicted, it was empty; there was a mammoth bloodstain on the floor in the center of the room, and a few other bloody spots where I had been cut open against the ground when he was tossing me around like a ragdoll. I heard an inhale from behind me, and I pressed a finger to my temple.

"Remind me why we're here again?" I whispered, feeling lightheaded. I pressed my other hand against the stone wall, feeling dirt crumble away beneath my fingers. The air was thin and scattered; I sucked in all I physically could, feeling my heart pound.

"Hawke, are you okay?" Aveline asked, concerned. She touched my shoulder lightly, helping me remain upright.

"I'm good," I panted, breathing in deeply. "It's just...the air is gone."

"Perhaps we should go," Fenris suggested, nostrils flaring. His eyes darted about the room, and he grasped the hilt of his sword.

Aveline nodded slowly, looking from Fenris to me. "I think that's a good idea. Fenris, you get Hawke out of here. Isabela and I will search around for a while longer."

"That's a recipe for disaster," I joked faintly. What was wrong with me?

"Get her out of here," Isabela confirmed. "I don't mind looking for dead people with Ginger, here."

Aveline groaned, and Fenris offered his arms to me. I grasped one of them and pulled myself up, but my head spun with the movement, and a warm blackness seeped into my visage. I stumbled into him, and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me from the room.

"Are you all right, Marian?" he asked into my ear. I nodded against him.

"I just need," I gasped, "more air."

"We'll go outside," he promised, helping me limp from the dank, choked atmosphere of the room. I clung to his sinewy arms, glad his pain had been minimalized by the lotion and he was accustomed to my touch; such were the perks of having him in my house. We stepped over dead bodies and ducked beneath doorways, and each step brought us closer to free-flowing oxygen.

My lungs began to work again, and each mouthful of air calmed my craving. My head became level, my eyes cleared, and I didn't have to lean against Fenris so much.

"Thank you," I said, sighing in relief. "I feel better."

Fenris hummed and tightened his grip around my waist. "Why did you react like that?"

"You didn't feel it?" I asked, confusion settling in my voice. It had prominence - but now that I was thinking clearly, none of the others seemed to feel the lack of oxygen as acutely as I had.

"Feel what?"

"It was...the air..." I explained, my sketched view of things slowly coming together. "There was something in it." I broke away from him and turned. "I've got to go back."

"What?" he asked, alarmed. He snatched my arm. "Why?"

"There was something there," I said. "Something you and the others didn't recognize."

"What was it?" he challenged, slipping into a brisk stride beside me.

"Magic," I spat, breaking into a run as a startled scream echoed down the hallway.

* * *

><p><strong>What's the worst pick-up line you've ever heard?<strong>


	14. Perturbed Protector

**We've all heard some ridiculous lines! From blunt and crude, to dorky, to downright cheesy! My favorite worst pick-up line is "I lost my teddy bear, will you sleep with me?"**

**My love goes out to everyone who has +alerted, +faved, or commented on this silly fanfic of mine! I was afraid that I would be alone in my corner - thanks for making me feel less dumb.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen: Perturbed Protector<strong>

_I still have the things you gave me  
><em>_For sure I haven't carried them_  
><em>Or buried them in the name of your ghost, my friend.<em>

_Sufjan Stevens, "Enchanting Ghost"_

When I ran back down the hallway, chasing our previous footsteps, Fenris was at my side and pushing ahead of me, his sword already drawn and tensed for a fight. I whipped out a knife from my waist sheath and we flew down the caverns, pouncing upon the source of the scream.

"What happened?" I yelled, barely bursting into the room before a massive, black bird flapped its wings, the force of the propelled air knocking me over. Fenris remained on his feet, using his sword as a shield to protect himself from the beating wings. "What the hell is _that_?"

"I don't know where it came from!" Aveline shouted from the other side of the room. "It just...appeared!"

I knew better - something summoned it, and that wasn't a good sign. I eased onto my feet, my backside sore from the knockdown, and sized up the giant bird.

It was easily five feet tall and double the width, and its claws were quite sharp; they appeared to be nearly fractured in the broken light, almost reflective-

I gasped, lurching forward. That was no claw - it was holding something in its feet.

I had to get it.

"Marian!" Fenris roared behind me; I looked up, stunned to see the bird lifting towards the ceiling, its free foot opening the foreboading, sharp claws in its natural arsenal. I barely had time to duck before it collapsed on top of me, raking the dangerous talons down my back. I screamed from the slashing pain, and saw Fenris react out of the corner of my eye, twisting his face in anger and preparing for battle. He moved as a dancer awakening from a deep, restful sleep, swinging his blade in a wide arc across the bird's long, smooth feathers, drawing a thick spurt of blood.

His movements blurred together as he lost shape, glowing a familiar, and oddly comforting, light blue. My eyes nearly watered at the sight and I dreamed he was _my_ Fenris, twirling slowly in a deadly tango with the unbelievable feathered beast. I was enthralled by him as he moved, dodging the fierce creature as it swiped at him, forgetting me, its prey, on the floor. I choked on the heavy, weighted perfume of blood magic, recognizing it for its disgusting, sharp tang.

Who could have summoned this giant bird? Not Danarius. He was dead, wasn't he? He had to be. I felt warmth gather in a pool down the small of my back, and I dazedly gazed at my elf, watching the way he moved; ghost-like, with an enchanting sway, capturing my awe.

"Hawke," someone spoke loudly in my ear. "Are you all right, Hawke? Say something or I'm assuming you're dead."

Reality folded around me; the bird was dead, its treasure lying forgotten, clutched in a frightening talon, and I locked gazes with the greenest, most concerned eyes I had ever seen.

"Marian," Fenris's voice rang out above Isabela's, who was above me. "Marian, please say something." His eyes left mine and searched my back, a crazed, unhinged expression breaking onto his face. "Please say you're okay," he pressed quietly.

"Blood...magic," I panted, needing fresh air once again. I tried to point, to draw their attention to the bird's foot. "Get...that."

"We need to move her," Aveline said. "Let's get her to some fresh air and Anders." She sighed. "Andraste's grace, Hawke, how do you always manage to take the worst hits?"

"Just lucky," I chuckled, wincing when the skin on my back ripped. Fenris still hadn't moved, remaining stoic and trembling from the place where he slaughtered the winged fiend.

"Get it," I insisted, still trying to make sense of my limbs. Why wouldn't they do what I told them to do? _Point_, damn it!

"What is that?" Isabela asked, finally pointing to the glinting object for me.

Aveline's brow furrowed and she stepped up to the bird, cracking its foot open. "It looks like..." she trailed off.

"What?" I asked weakly, blackness flitting across my eyes. _Stay awake, Hawke,_ I told myself. _You will _not _pass out._

"Oh, Maker," Aveline said, wincing. "This isn't a good sign."

"What is it?" Isabela asked, irritated.

"It's a fragment of a mirror," Aveline said, pocketing the item. "Forget it for now. We need to get Hawke out of this cave. Fenris," she said loudly, and his attention snapped to her. "Pick her up and let's get the hell out of here."

He nodded carefully and walked silently to where I lay. "Marian," he said reverently but sadly, touching my shoulders. "You should have waited."

I sighed. I always managed to put myself in front of the defenders, forgetting my training as a stealth operator. I was rash and bold and never thought things through the entire way - it would prove to be a fatal fault someday, I was sure.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, and his arm circled my shoulders while his other hand braced my torso.

I winced a little when he lifted me into his arms, cradling me to his chest; his armor managed to tear my wounds a little wider, and my head spun.

"Blood...magic," I forced out between my teeth. "Should've...known. Thick air."

Fenris shushed me, pulling me tighter against him. "Save it for when we get out of these caves," Isabela advised.

I nodded against Fenris, taking deep, filling breaths as he carried me out.

"Do you think you can manage to carry her all the way to Anders?" Aveline was asking, her voice droning somewhere behind me.

"If I must," replied Fenris. "But I don't know the way."

"I'll take you," offered Isabela cheerfully.

"I...can walk," I protested poorly, still swooning.

"You're hurt," Fenris said logically. "You need healing."

"Fenris is right," said Aveline. "You shouldn't have to do anything in that condition. We'll escort you to Darktown."

I moaned when I was able to take my first lungful of clean, clear air, sucking it greedily into my windpipes.

"Better?" Fenris asked.

"Better," I confirmed, my head knocking against his armor-clad chest. Aveline and Isabela whispered somewhere behind us, deep in conversation. The sun set over the great mountain, casting long shadows and making me feel even wearier than I had before. "I used to hate this armor," I said thoughtfully, idly tracing a finger down the hard plates covering his chest.

"Why?" he asked, the simple question floating in the air for a few seconds before hitting my ears.

"Because it separated your skin from mine," I said, my back pulsing with each beat of my heart. "I wanted to touch you, and I couldn't, because this fucking armor was in the way..."

"I heard the word 'fuck'," Isabela called. "Speaking about naughty things, are you? Why was I not invited into the conversation?"

"Shove off, Isabela," Aveline said crossly. "They don't want to be interrupted."

"Speak for yourself, Pumpkin Head. The elf-boy is blushing."

"Pumpkin Head? Are you shitting me?"

"Look who's using the foul language now!" Isabela sounded delighted, and I laughed at their crossed words. The blood rushed to my head very quickly, and the ground rocked below me.

I peeked up at Fenris and saw that, indeed, his face was red.

"What's up with the tomato face?" I asked, touching a finger to his chin. How many times had I began touching him with just one finger?

He smiled faintly. "You talk as if you've known me forever."

"I feel as if I've loved you forever," I said, smiling a goofy smile, and then cried out when he stumbled a step and the spikes on his armor poked me in the neck. I couldn't tell if they drew blood, but _fuck_ me if it didn't hurt.

"Shit," he said, cradling my head. "Shit, shit, shit," he cursed, and it was by far the longest string of curses I had ever heard him utter. "Marian, did I hurt you? Maker, why did I ever think wearing this damn armor was a good idea?"

"That's what _I_ said."

"We're in Darktown," Aveline said. "We shouldn't linger here for long; can you still carry her, or do you want me to do it?"

"I - I don't want to hurt her," Fenris said, worried and flustered. I was balanced on his knee from where he nearly dropped me, clasped to his chest. The pinpricks on my neck didn't hurt as badly, but I still wanted to rip the spikes off of his shoulders and shove them into a pit of lava.

"We're close," Aveline inserted when no one moved. "These streets are dangerous at night, Fenris. We need to hurry."

"Fine," he said shortly, lifting me into his arms again. He set a brisk pace down the street, brushing past beggars and the common riffraff found in the dregs of the city.

"You're an excellent fighter," I said quietly into his collarbone. "I'm glad you kept those memories."

"Why would I keep them?" he asked, voice stretched. His attention was focused on his steps, on not jostling me. It really wasn't that bad; if he had seen some of the other scars on my body, he would realize that a few scratches weren't a big deal. "Why would I remember fighting, but not...not you?"

I shrugged and flinched, immediately reminding myself that I had a gaping wound running down the length of my back. "Maybe it's because fighting is an instinct, an ability, and your memories are just memories: easily erased."

"Instinct, you say?" he mused, his voice trembling through me. "Perhaps that is why I trust you."

"Why?" I asked, repeating his simple question from earlier.

"Because loving you is an instinct, and not just a memory."

* * *

><p>I felt elated and high; my worries were forgotten, my back healing, and Fenris loved me.<p>

He said he loved me.

That meant he loved me.

He definitely loved me, right?

"She's talking again," Anders said dryly.

"The pain medication is working," Isabela sang from my left. "And boy, does she sound_ excited,_" she purred.

"How long will she be like this?" Aveline asked as Fenris came into view. I grinned up at him, and he rewarded me with a small smile of his own, touching my neck tenderly with his gauntleted fingers.

I sighed. It felt so different to be on the receiving care of such tenderness - I wasn't sure if I liked it or not, but it felt great coming from Fenris.

"Maybe an hour or two; I can't be sure when the medication will wear off," Anders hedged. "Her back is fine. The damage was only superficial, and she didn't really lose too much blood. Besides that, our Hawke is the Champion of Kirkwall. She's a fighter. She'll be up and running before any normal person would be."

"Marian," Fenris whispered. "How do you feel?"

"Happy," I replied blissfully, barely realizing that I was lying on my stomach in an uncomfortable cot. He chuckled and rolled his eyes, and my hand numbly reached up and snatched his fingers away from my neck, pulling his hand up to my lips for a small, innocent kiss.

"I heard that you would be insane for an hour. Is that true?" he asked, brushing my short hair from my face.

"I'll get back to you in an hour."

"If you don't need me, I'll be at The Hanged Man," Isabela said, sensing that the excitement was dying down. "Don't wait up or anything."

"'Bye, Belly!" I called, floating. Was I moving? No, I was pretty sure I was still lying down on the dirty cot. I felt so free, so disembodied.

"'Bye, Hawky!" she answered back, her laugh tinkling around the room as she made her escape.

I zoned out for a few minutes; I was never present, nor was I unconscious. I just...was.

"Hawke, I wanted to ask you what you thought about this," Aveline started hesitantly, entering my line of sight. She held up a small, shattered piece of glass. "The bird was holding it, in the caves. Do you remember?"

I nodded sleepily, watching the small piece sparkle.

"You knew it was there, didn't you?" she said, walking closer. Fenris didn't move, his hand still firmly in mine. My vision was clouded by huge, sparkling ornaments dancing around the room. Did anyone else see this?

I nodded again. "And the blood magic," I recalled in a snapshot of clarity before it was all hazy again. "The smell...it clogged my lungs." I wrinkled my nose. The light began tap dancing over Aveline's shoulder.

"I didn't notice any blood magic," Aveline said, cocking her head, oblivious to the entertaining show taking place behind her. "Not until the bird showed up. I could smell it, then."

"If you don't mind me inserting," Anders said humbly, "Hawke has had experience with magic since birth. She is probably more attuned to recognize the different types of magic than you or a regular person would; her father was a mage and her sister was a mage, and she was introduced to magic at an early age. My theory is that she's more sensitive to it because of her past."

"Sound reasoning," Aveline agreed. "Do you have a take on this situation?"

"Which one?" Anders asked. "The bird, the mirror, or Danarius?"

"All of it," Aveline returned tiredly. "I'm having a difficult time wrapping my mind around it all, to be completely honest. First Danarius's body disappears, and then this bird shows up? It can't be a coincidence - not to mention the suspicious lack of animal activity in the cave. I would have expected scavengers to be tearing into all the corpses, but there wasn't so much as a paw print."

"Maybe it was due to the blood magic," the ex-Warden theorized. "If I was a cat, I wouldn't go anywhere near it."

I burst into laughter at the mental image of Anders as a cat, fluffy-feathered pauldron and all.

I received strange looks.

"I think," I started, "I think. I think that... I think..." I took a deep breath and steadied my thoughts. "I think that I want to go talk to Merrill."

"That'll have to wait, I'm afraid," Aveline said. "You've still got a date with Meredith."

I groaned. "I don't want to see that frigid bitch," I whined. "Don't make me. Merrill is much sweeter. Kind of quirky. 's fun to hear her talk."

"It's not up to me, Hawke," Aveline said. Fenris huffed out a breath; he was still put-off by the fact that all of my friends called me 'Hawke' instead of 'Marian'. I thought it was endearing.

"You're in no shape to speak to the Knight-Commander, though," Anders said. "I wouldn't suggest going in until tomorrow."

I smiled triumphantly and stuck my tongue out at Aveline. She shook her head, smiling ruefully.

"Take her home, Fenris," Aveline suggested. "I'll send someone by in the morning, if only to remind her of the appointment with the Knight-Commander." She turned and waved at Anders. "Show him where the passage is, Anders; it's safer."

Anders nodded and waved at her retreating figure. Fenris stroked my lips with his thumb, pressing into the soft flesh of my mouth and putting me into a trance.

Anders cleared his throat. "You can take her to her estate, if you're ready. She should be perfectly fine, and the drugs will wear off over the course of the night."

Fenris met his gaze and nodded once before standing and offering a hand to me, helping me upright. He maneuvered my thighs underneath his arm and tipped my head backwards, causing it to loll over his arm. I tried to pull myself up and put my head on his shoulder, and he shifted me, resting my cheek on his collarbone.

"Thanks," I mumbled, rubbing my temple against the cool metal of his armor. "Damn armor."

"Follow me," Anders said, and Fenris followed. A door opened, and I was bathed in darkness.

I didn't know how much time elapsed or how many steps he took, but after a while of the cold blackness shifting across my face, we came to a long staircase, and Fenris climbed out of my cellar.

Getting to bed was quickly accomplished, and I hardly remembered the distance between the cellar and my room. Nothing mattered to me until Fenris shed his armor and crawled into bed with me, his tunic lying across the floor.

"It was dirty," he explained when my hands tentatively ran across his broad chest. I tried to snuggle into him, but my palms were too busy trying to feel him up.

"_I'm_ dirty," I complained, feeling the blood stiffening my shirt. Fenris took a deep breath, and nodded.

"Uncomfortable, isn't it?" he said, bringing his shaking hands to the hemline of my shirt. Where had my armor gone? He lifted it over my head and tossed it against the wall. Next went my gloves and my boots, and then we were equal: man to woman, chest to chest, hands to hands and feet to feet.

Fenris shuddered against me, and I felt his forehead press against mine. "I hated it, Marian," he confided. In the dull light from the wasted embers of my fire, I could make out his clenched eyes.

"What's wrong?" I asked, rubbing his cheek with a naked hand. Everything felt fuzzy, and my hands were shaking. When did we get into bed, again?

"I couldn't _help_ you," he expressed emphatically, his own hand joining mine against his cheek. His lyrium tattoos began faintly glowing, lighting up his face and our closeness. "You were injured, and there was nothing I could do."

"You helped me," I whispered, trying to soothe him. "You took care of me."

"But I didn't _protect _you," Fenris spat, eyes opening only to look away. "You shouldn't have been hurt at all. It's my job."

"Getting hurt is your job?" I asked, trying to bring light into the situation. He glared at me, reminding me of my old Fenris.

_Old Fenris? Since when did he become "old Fenris"?_

"Protecting you is my job," he said, breathing it against me. He pulled me down, my head against his chest, and I relaxed to the sound of his throbbing heart. "I love you, Marian."

My breath hitched at the sound of those three little words that meant so much more than I ever expected they would. He loved me. He _loved_ me. It wasn't just a frightened feeling of craving that I felt on a lonely night; it wasn't a skewed, obscure caring feeling that I used to have. It was love. Our love. _Mutual_ love.

Or...or was it?

I tensed as the thought struck a dam inside of me, spilling forth insecure thoughts, frightened thoughts, _terrified _thoughts - I said I cared for him first; what if I had influenced him in some way? What if he was just saying it because I _taught_ him?

Oh, Maker.

His arms wrapped tighter around me. "I do, Marian. If you never believe anything else I say, please believe that I love you," he insisted, speaking into my ear. "My instincts told me to trust you from the first moment I laid eyes upon you; they told me to love you, to protect you, to be _yours_. Please let me. I _want_ to be yours."

Fenris. Andraste's grace, this was _my_ Fenris. It didn't matter anymore; I would love him regardless of memories, just for being him.

"I love you too, Fenris." It was so _weird_, speaking so freely with him. "I think losing your memories loosened your tongue," I said.

"What do you mean?" he asked, touching my lips with his fingers again.

"You would have never said all of this before," I explained, and when I began speaking, his fingers trailed down my throat. My head was unfogging, little by little. "We never...actually said the words. Before, I mean."

"Why not?" Fenris leaned forward, his hot breath fanning across my face.

"I - I don't know," I said, losing all coherent thought as his lips touched my cheek. "You had...you just had so much baggage, and I don't think you ever really trusted me.." _for good reasons._

"I trust you completely," he said, his nose touching mine. "I can't imagine you ever being untrustworthy, Marian. You're a beautiful person. You saved me, helped me, love me." He smiled and gently, softly, _so_ softly, pressed his lips against mine in a short, sweet peck.

My eyes shut and my brow creased, my lips molding unresponsively beneath the adoring pressure of his.

It was funny, that he considered me incapable of untrustworthiness.

Because right then, I felt like the worst liar imaginable.

The liar who lies by omission.

I bit my lip and pushed my face against his throat, masking my emotional state with exhaustion - I supposed the two went hand-in-hand, anyway.

"Good night, Fenris," I said weakly, trying to keep my voice from wavering.

"Good night, Marian," he whispered in return, rolling onto his back and pulling me with him.

I felt like a rotten bitch for not telling him that I sold him into slavery just so my life would be spared.

* * *

><p>I could have sworn that night didn't pass, for when I awoke, I felt as if I hadn't slept a wink in an entire month.<p>

I was sore, and tired, and hungry, and bitchy; and just when I thought my day was going to be an awful, horrifying day, Fenris does the one thing that makes it all better.

He leans down and silently gives me a beautiful, sugary morning kiss.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully. I groaned, rolling away from his shining face.

Andraste's withering spasm chasm - he was a _morning_ person.

I pressed my face into the pillow. "Go away," I muttered.

He was silent for a few minutes, resting in my bed. "Do you want me to leave?" he asked, tentative.

I groaned again. "No," I replied reluctantly. "Just shut up and spoon me."

"It's time to get up," he said, sounding confused.

"All the more reason to go back to bed."

"Hawke! Good morning, baby!"

"Oh, fuck _me_! Isabela, get _out of my house!_"

* * *

><p><strong>What is your favorite sappy, romantic song?<strong>


	15. Fen Fen

**Our sappiest songs are as follows: "How Can I Not Love You", "Speechless", "Wicked Game", "Heartache Every Moment", "The Book of Love", "Sway", "Almost Lover", "Come What May", and my personal favorite sappy song is "You're Still the One I Love" by Shania Twain.**

**We are some sappy, sappy gamers.**

**Note: This is really next to unedited, so forgive me for any mistakes. Just thought I'd throw it up before I went out to party! Happy 4th, Americans!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen: Fen Fen<strong>

_What a liar,_

_What a thief,_

_What a major fuckin' waste of my time._

_I'm glad I know you._

_Birds of Tokyo, "Medicine"_

"_Why _does everyone wake me up before a decent hour?" I complained, staring at my eggs. I hated eggs, but I didn't want Orana to feel bad about feeding them to me.

"It _is_ a decent hour," Varric said, shoveling my eggs into his mouth. "_You_ are the indecent one."

I sighed and pushed my plate in front of him. "A woman can't be topless in her own house, now?"

"She can be topless," Varric agreed. "But caught in bed with a man on a Chantry morning? Tsk, tsk, my friend."

"Nothing happened," I muttered sourly, reaching for my drink.

"Oh, Hawke, you're so cute," Isabela said fondly, raising her glass to mine. "Denying a beautiful thing. We won't hold it against you."

"Stop me if you've heard this one before," I started, setting down my glass and glowering at her. "I'm going to _kill_ you."

She laughed, kicking her feet up onto my table. I shoved them off.

Who puts their nasty feet onto a_ dining _table? "Where did your manners go?"

"I'm a pirate, babe," Isabela answered. "I never _had_ manners."

"About this mirror," Varric interrupted, laying the object in question on my table. "Why do you think the bird had it?"

I grabbed a banana. "I have no clue," I said, feeling my stomach rumble. "Belly, why don't you make yourself useful and go find my armor?"

She groaned. "You don't need armor; you're just going to go have a friendly chat with a templar. You could just go in a nice skirt, couldn't you?"

Ever since we ran into Danarius inside the local bar, I wasn't taking any chances. It was armor, or die; I had too many enemies to afford leniency.

"Or you could go find my armor," I said. "I'll consider killing you in a less violent way."

"I don't think dying could get less violent," Varric said thoughtfully. "Though, I suppose an _extremely_ violent death would be interesting to witness."

Fenris walked into the room, carrying an armful of thick material. "I found this upstairs," he said, laying it across an empty chair. "I thought you could use it until we retrieved your armor from Anders."

I shot a pointed look at Isabela. "Thank you, Fenris. You're so thoughtful."

Isabela rolled her eyes. "Oh, Fen Fen, you're so _thoughtful_," she mocked. "Let's go get filthy naked together."

I threw the remains of my banana at her head and she swatted it away.

"Fen Fen?" Fenris asked, looking disturbed. "Is that...is that supposed to be my name?"

I chuckled, reaching for his arm and pulling him next to me. "It's not that bad," I soothed. "You should hear some of the things Isabela calls Aveline."

"Fire Crotch is my favorite," Isabela said. "It leaves room for the imagination, I think."

"I'm partial to Blue," Varric stated. "It's so off-the-wall; plus, Aveline actually answers to it, which I find hilarious."

"Why not come up with something appealing?" I suggested. "What about _Cherry_?"

Isabela scrunched her nose. "You think _that's_ appealing? It makes me think of virgins."

"Strawberry?" Varric wondered aloud. "That isn't too bad."

"I like Strawberry," Aveline said, stepping into my dining room. She waved at us. "I see you're talking about me again."

"That's really creepy," I said, raising an eyebrow. "You show up every time we talk about you. Coincidence?"

"My ears go red," she explained, smiling. "How do you feel?"

I shrugged. "No shittier than usual, Hot Head."

"Hot Head!" Isabela sputtered, giggling. "I like it!"

Aveline sighed. "Just when I think I could live in peace, Hawke." She glared accusingly at me.

I raised my hands. "I'm just contributing to the colorful conversation," I teased.

"You _should_ be on your way to speak to Meredith," she said. "Politics are going to run this city-state into the ground, I tell you. She's trying to commit a genocide right beneath our very noses; not that I think she's all wrong, mind you. It's just a sneaky way to gain power with the people, and I disagree with the motive."

Sighing, I hugged Fenris's waist and stood, stretching my legs and reaching for my old clothes. "Fuck, I'll _do_ it. Just let me get this monkey suit on." It was ridiculous - the kind of thing I had to wear when I began work as a mercenary in Kirkwall. It was green with hideous pinstripes; I vowed to burn it after I retrieved my regular clothes.

"_Someone_ is in a bad mood," she commented, eyeing me.

"We woke her before lunchtime," Varric answered. "It isn't good for her state of mind."

"My state of mind is just fine, thanks," I said shortly. "I'll just...go see Meredith, I guess," I wavered, planning out my day. Before I stopped to think about it, I snatched the shard of glass from the table. "Don't worry about me, or anything. I'll stop by Merrill's after I leave the Castle of Doom."

"Don't rush," Isabela said, sliding her seat over to where Fenris had sat. I sighed and scratched my head.

"Do you want me to accompany you?" Fenris asked, catching my hesitancy with his careful eyes.

Shaking my head, I shouldered my swords and tugged on my gloves. "I'll just be having a conversation with a neighbor," I informed him. "Nothing more."

I waved my hand over my shoulder when I walked out, feeling his eyes on my back.

* * *

><p>"Champion," Meredith addressed me, standing from her desk. "Welcome."<p>

Shrewd and bitchy, as always.

"Oh, Knight-Commander," I said, throwing my hands out. "It's been too long! You look _ravishing_." I winked at her, tossing in a suggestive pout for effect.

Sarcasm: I was a _master_ at it.

Her mouth didn't even wrinkle.

Sarcasm powers: wasted.

"There's been an incident, Champion, within our own walls. Our cache of phylacteries was invaded, and several of the mage's phylacteries were broken."

Meredith lead me out of her office/dungeon and away from the smell of tears and pain; I could have sworn I even heard a cat hiss as I walked by the door. Our footsteps were the only sounds in the great hall of the Gallows, echoing off the walls and bouncing around us seven fold.

"We've managed to track down the fugitives," she said, and I had the horrible image of her sending bloodthirsty wolves after children in robes. "But I will need your assistance with the last three."

Right. The woman with the most influential power in Kirkwall was asking me - Champion, but still Ferelden refugee - to do her job?

Bullshit business.

"How did this happen?" I asked robotically as we stopped. She turned her cold, empty eyes to me.

"My own templars orchestrated this escape. They betrayed their duties to help the mages. Thankfully, most of the mages only fled to their families and offered no resistance. Unfortunately, the last three are...difficult to retrieve."

"Hell, Meredith," I said, narrowing my eyes at her. "We're not exactly best friends. Why would you be asking me to do your job for you?"

Anger flared briefly in her expression before she clamped the proverbial hand down on her emotional response. "I want you to track them down, Hawke," she said, eyeing me. "I want you to face the despicable runaway mages for yourself and I want you to see that not all of them are to be trusted."

"Not all of them are to be distrusted, as well," I inserted quietly.

"All of them suffer the temptation," she responded in kind without missing a beat. "They could all turn to blood magic."

_Power corrupts, and mages have power enough already._

_It doesn't take all mages to cause this. Only the weak ones._

_In a society where mages rule, they find many ways to justify their need for power. _

I bit the inside of my cheek, remembering the things Fenris used to say, and stared at the stupid looking horn on the center of her head.

Why does she even wear that? Was it Templar, or just her? Although, judging by her crow's feet, she had been around a long time. Maybe the fashion trends used to be different when she first started her work.

It still looked stupid.

"I'll do what I can," I said reluctantly. After all, she couldn't be completely evil. Evilness must simply be a job hazard. "I'm afraid I still don't know much of the situation, though."

_Besides that, helping templars is what Fenris would have wanted me to do_.

"Check with my assistant, Elsa," she nodded her head at a woman sitting on a bench not far away. "She can tell you more. Good luck, Champion. I hope this will help open your eyes."

I huffed as she pushed past me, heading back to her office. My eyes were _always_ open; I was just persecuted for trying to stay in the middle ground.

Why did everyone have to be so extreme? Why wouldn't Meredith give Orsino a little wiggle room? The templars didn't enjoy what she made them do to mages; why couldn't she see that she was taking this too far? She could stop this revolution before it started, and Kirkwall wouldn't become another Tevinter.

Sighing, I walked over to the small, brunette girl. Elsa, Meredith had said.

"Hello," I said, trying not to stare at the marking on her forehead. I didn't know if she could detect rudeness or not.

"Good day, Champion of Kirkwall," she said in her monotonous, tranquil voice. I cringed. "I have been informed that you will be following the case of the escaped mages. The mages are named Huon, Emile, and Evelina."

Names, then? Not "Mage One-One-Five-Four-Red"?

"Oh...good, I guess," I said uncomfortably. I hated being around the tranquil. The woman was wearing Chantry robes, and I wondered if she had this done by choice or if it was forced upon her.

I quickly asked for the rundown on all of the escaped mages; I didn't expect they would be hard to find, as they didn't have a chance to get far. Her intel seemed pretty sound, and once I had extracted every bit of information from her soulless husk, I left quickly and headed towards the alienage, fingering the piece of mirror.

As I walked, I lost all awareness of the outside world, staring at the sharp glass. It was a strange sort of mirror, a type that I had seen before. A mirror that didn't reflect.

Not many mirrors can't reflect, and I only knew of one such queer artifact.

* * *

><p>Merrill's house came into view sooner than I expected; I was inspecting the mirror closely, trying to make sense of the blurring shapes in its shadowed depths, and didn't realize I had come upon the house until she shouted my name, waving me over.<p>

I smiled and gave her a hug, wondering how I could miss the smell of the alienage. It had a distinct scent of soil, nature, and elven longing.

"Hey, Merrill," I said cheerfully, squeezing her. "How have you been?"

"Oh, you know," she said, waving me off. "I tried to patch the holes in my roof last week, but I only succeeded in making a larger, more troublesome hole that tried to eat my house."

"Same old, same old?" I asked, giving her another hug. Merrill was so adorable. "I find I'm agreeing with Isabela: You're so sweet I could have you for dessert."

She laughed and pushed me away. "I know you like to check up on me, Hawke, but there must be a reason for you to come all the way down here, right? I mean, with Fenris and all, you've been pretty tight on time." Immediately changing tones, she ushered me into her house. "How is he, by the way? Fenris, I mean. Is he doing better? Remember anything yet? Have you tried random word association? Has he been eating all of his vegetables? Say 'halla' and see if it spurs his memory."

I coughed to hide my laugh. "Is..is that all? 'Halla'? Really?"

She blushed and offered me a seat. "Believe it or not, it helped me, once. Or twice. Saying the word 'halla' can remind me of several things quite unrelated to the animal."

"I'll keep that in mind, I suppose," I said, not really considering it. "Fenris is doing much better than he was when we first found him. He's...friendlier than he used to be, but he's definitely Fenris."

"That's great!" Merrill exclaimed, leaning her cheek onto her palm. "That's really great. Anyways, what do you need?"

"I was wondering if you finished restoring that old mirror," I said, trying to sneak a peek into the other room.

"The Eluvian?" she asked, tugging on one of her pigtails. Fidgeting. Always moving.

Being around her was exhausting.

"I've purged it of the taint," she said unsuredly. "But it still won't work, I'm afraid. I'm looking into fixing it completely. Why?"

I slid the shattered mirror onto the table. "I think that this is a fragment of it."

She pounced on it, holding it up to her face for inspection. After turning it over and examining each face several times, she shook her head and pursed her lips. "No, I don't believe it is."

"Then what do you think of it?"

"I think..." she paused, tapping the reflective side of the glass. "I think that it's a fragment of another Eluvian."

"Another mirror? Really?" I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees. "What makes you say that?"

"Mostly the fact that my Eluvian doesn't have a crack so large," she said, blushing. "Just a few dents. Where did you find it?"

"It was in the talons of a giant bird that attacked me in the Bone Pit," I said, a bit dry, and her eyes widened.

"Really?" she asked, sounding worried. "Did you come out of that fight all right?" She shook her head at herself. "Right. Of course you did, you're here now."

"I can't come up with a reason why the bird would have that fragment," I said, glancing at the object in question.

"That _is_ an interesting question," she agreed. "Why were you in the cave?"

"We were searching for Danarius's body," I answered, gazing at the rotting wood of the walls. Merrill was too sweet to live in such a horrible place, but she appeared to be content, at the very least, with her life.

"Such a grim task," Merrill sympathized, leaning back in her chair. "Did you find him? Or it?"

"No, we didn't. Not a trace of him; and then that bird..." I remembered Fenris, how naturally fighting came to him, how he worried... I stood, sighing. "I should probably start on the way back..." I sent a longing look at Merrill's strange mirror, feeling unrushed.

"You can spare a few extra minutes, can't you?" she asked hopefully. "I can get you some tea - no, I believe I'm out of tea...perhaps some water? Did you not want to compare mirrors?"

I smiled at her and grabbed my mirror. "Water would be great."

* * *

><p>"...ever since we recovered the <em>arulin'holm<em>," Merrill said. "It isn't working right, and I'm not sure what else I can do."

"What have you considered?" I asked, rolling onto her pillow and staring up at the elven artifact. It was ornate and high in stature, with curling vines twisting up the sides in traditional elven fashion.

"Well," she hesitated sheepishly. "I don't think you'll approve of what I've thought."

"I still want to hear it," I said, contemplating my own sliver of mirror. Neither mine nor hers had a reflection, but both had a creepy way of showing other shapes, shadows, silhouettes...

"A demon could give me more information," Merrill said, staring at the ground. "I know you'll disapprove, but I really think it could help."

"Merrill," I said slowly, placing my mirror on the floor.

"Give me a moment," she said, sitting up and crossing her legs. She hugged a blanket to her chest. We were both on the floor; I was lying down in front of the mirror, and she had her elbows on her legs. "Let me explain. This demon...it's trapped. It won't be able to get out, and even if it did, I would have a back up plan. This Eluvian is a part of my history - Dalish history. It's an important artifact, and now that you've brought this to me, it's made up my mind completely." She scooted closer, leaning over me. "Don't you see? It's relevant, now. The Eluvian.

"The demon might be able to explain where Danarius's body went, why the great bird possessed the piece of Eluvian, maybe even how Fenris's memories were erased -"

I held my hand up to stop her. "I could waltz into a Magister's office and get answers to those questions, Merrill," I said, rolling onto my side so it was easier to look up at her. "Talking with a demon, in any type of way...sounds insane. You know that, right? We don't have to operate within such extremes."

"I knew you wouldn't understand," she said pitifully, staring at the floor. "I thought you would be excited, Hawke."

"Excited? Excited about what?" I sat up and placed my palm on her shoulder, shaking her a little. "A demon could possess you, Merrill. He could infect your soul, and you wouldn't be _Merrill_ anymore. I'd die before I'd let that happen," I declared, pulling her close. "I know that you think that what you're doing is right, but demons aren't meant to be trifled with."

_It doesn't take all mages to cause this. Only the weak ones._

Merrill was weak. She was easy to persuade, and was too quick to seek out demons. "You're an intelligent woman, Merrill," I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I know you can come up with some other idea."

"That's the thing, though," Merrill muttered, fiddling with her hands in her lap. "I've thought of everything else. No other scenario would work; you said you could walk into a Magister's office - a Tevinter Magister, I assume - and get these answers, but in truth, they have _no _answers. They used to, perhaps, back when they destroyed the Golden City, but now..." She sighed. "And I don't think encountering a Magister would be so different from speaking with a demon."

_You could say that again._

I rubbed my hand down my face and sighed. "I'll think on it, Merrill." I saw her face light up, and raised my hand to clarify. "That isn't a yes. I want you to think this through, to really consider what it is you're asking me to do for you. Then I want you to come to me again with this and be able to back up your reasoning, all right?"

She squealed and wrapped her arms around my neck. "Thank you, Hawke!" she said, choking me. "Thank you _so_ much! I _will_ think about it, I promise. Restoring this Eluvian means more to me than anything else I've done with my life."

Okay, yeah, that sentence sounded a tad bit unhealthy. I overlooked it deliberately and stood, hearing my legs pop.

"The others must be worried about me," I said, scratching my cheek. "How long have I been here?"

Merrill shrugged and handed me my broken mirror. "A few hours, I think." Worry settled in her brow. "Are you sure you can make it home on your own? It must be dark out, by now."

"I think I can manage," I said, ambling towards the door. "Crime rate has gone down significantly since I moved into the state." I winked at her and she laughed.

"Right, of course it has." She walked me to the door. "Please come back soon."

"You should visit my estate more often," I said, poking her in her side.

"I will!" she said, giving me another hug. I turned and opened the door, unprepared for the sharp tang of blood magic to fill my lungs.

I immediately cast my eyes around the alienage, searching for the source. A petite elf woman was walking by Merrill's home, and I followed her with my eyes, wary.

"What's going on?" Merrill whispered. I held up my hand, quieting her.

"Huon," the woman whimpered, running up to a man. He held open his arms, and she ran into them, embracing the elf.

I carefully stepped from the doorway, pulling out two of my knives. Merrill saw me prepare for a possible fight and ran back into the house, retrieving her staff.

I watched the couple as they spoke in hushed whispers, interested. Huon - where had I heard that name before?

A sharp scream broke the silence of the night as Huon stabbed the woman through the stomach and eased her onto the ground.

Son of a _bitch_, what was _that_ for?

"Hey!" I yelled at the elf, stepping forward. "What's your deal, elf?"

He didn't look at me; staring into space, his hands touched the wound he made on the woman. "Her sacrifice will lead me to destiny."

"Crackpot," I muttered, glaring at him. "People like you shouldn't be running around."

_Huon_. I remembered, now - the tranquil woman, Meredith, phylacteries...

Oh, hell. This was an escaped mage.

"The humans keep us down because they are afraid of the magic within us," he was saying, solidifying the fact that he was an apostate.

I spotted Merrill out of the corner of my eye, watching the scene from a safe vantage point. He wouldn't be able to see her if she stayed where she was.

Good.

My eyes flickered back to the elf, lifting my knives in preparation. A crimson cloud drifted around him, dyeing the air a bright, sickening color. His eyes were blank, his skin speckled with blood from the woman he had slain.

I observed her body and automatically ruled out saving her. She was already beyond my reach.

I didn't want to hear anything else he had to say. "You're a monster," I spat, reaching into my back pocket. "You could have ran peacefully. You could have fled to Ferelden, or Tevinter, _anywhere_," I said. "Instead, you come here and kill an innocent woman?"

Huon's eyes raked across me, leaving a near tangible mark across my body, and his skin began to glow with malicious red lines, reminding me of when I first found Fenris in the cave. That reminder sent me into action, and I threw a fire bomb at him, racing to subdue him before he could summon a demon.

"By order of the Knight-Commander, I place you under arrest!" I said, hoping to distract him with the words. The explosion was short-lived, and two Shades were born from the smoke and headed straight for my position.

One never made it so far; Merrill caught it with an ice spell and the thick, cold water encased it and halted any movements it made. I sliced the second twice over with both of my blades, shredding the cloth it cloaked itself in.

Two larger Shades replaced them, and two extra were added to the mix. Huon himself sent wave after wave of fireballs at me, and I was constantly on the move, dodging the falling, burning ash.

I released one of my knives, throwing it at the blood mage. It lodged mid-thigh, and for a brief moment, the fireballs stopped.

"Hawke!" Merrill shouted, waving her staff. "Move!"

I barely had time to leap out of the battlefield before slicing blades of frozen water fell from the sky as Merrill cast her next spell, burying the Shades in a layer of ice. I threw in another home-made bomb, hoping to shatter the captive spirits.

It worked. They broke apart, scattering across the filthy ground of the alienage and vanishing in tufts of smoke. I snapped my head up, preparing to launch my next attack at the spellcaster, only to find him gone.

I held my ground in the stunned quiet, drifting around the battleground warily. I saw Merrill take a step into the silent arena.

"Don't," I commanded, inching around the enormous tree in the center of the alienage. Dust lingered in the putrid air, swaying. "Stay where you are."

She nodded and blended into shadows once more.

"Huon," I called. "Where are you?"

It was barely detectable, but as soon as I felt him, I sprang into action. His staff jabbed my shoulder the second I moved, my bones shuddering with the impact. I twisted and disappeared into my own smoke, turning behind him, lifting my blades and slicing open the small of his back when my stealth wore off.

He screamed into the air, blindly waving his staff around. Smoke poured into my lungs.

I coughed and sputtered, my eyes watering as wave after wave of black smoke blew into my face. I sensed more Shades gather around me, and I slashed my blades about, finding no purchase.

When the first few pricks of heat met my skin, I realized where the fire had been cast. I flew away from the fight, shrugging off the Maker-awful clothes I had donned as a mercenary, watching them burn to ashes. My skin sizzled from where the fire had touched me, burning hot and reeking of singed flesh.

Merrill was busy deflecting them in my absence, luring them into her corner. She slicked the ground with an oily substance that evaporated quickly but succeeded in slowing the hostiles; when they all fell into place, she froze the oil and they were rendered unable to move.

Clever girl. I laughed, feeling ridiculous in my smalls.

I _told_ myself I was going to burn my clothes, didn't I?

"Hawke!" Merrill screamed, and I ducked automatically in response, twirling away from the blood mage. He summoned more Shades to replace those stuck in Merrill's ice, and pulled my knife from his leg.

"This doesn't have to end in bloodshed," I said, backing away from him. I heard Merrill dealing with the new Shades.

"Everything ends in blood," the elf babbled. "My destiny was written in blood. Blood will free us all from the tyranny that has kept us down for centuries."

"You're a menace," I yelled, trying to reason with him. "You killed an innocent woman for no Makerdamn reason!"

I hated that he was proving Meredith right. Not all mages were like this, just the sick ones.

Huon was very, _very_ sick.

"It is too late," he said, lips curving. "My destiny has already been written." He jerked his arm and my blade slid through the air. I stretched out of the way, but the blade sliced the skin of my side, causing a red arc to splash into the air and join his blood cloud.

"Ah, shit," I cursed, grabbing my side and trying to staunch the blood. "Spoke too damn soon."

The blood quickly stained the sides of my white underclothes, and I sighed. I _knew_ I couldn't have nice things; I couldn't have white clothes, couldn't have a family portrait, couldn't have chocolate...

"Now I have to kill you," I said, reaching for the small knife strapped around my thigh. Huon brandished his weapon, cocked his head, and clamped his free hand down on air.

I cried and fell to my knees as something strange took hold of my body - where the pressure of my blood was clotting and closing, he reopened the dam, allowing for a greater bloodflow, giving him greater power.

Fuck!

_Stop bleeding, stop bleeding, stop bleeding_. My brain fogged from lack of blood as it poured from my waist into the air, and I heard Merrill scream from the corner.

_Kill him fast, kill him fast, kill him fast_.

I ran at him, prepared to parry his inevitable blunt attack with his staff; I carved a neat dent into the wooden weapon with my knife and leapt on top of his chest, knocking him over.

I punched him in the throat and he gasped for air. "That's for the girl you killed."

I stabbed him in the chest, causing his gasps for air to become choked gargles. "That's for ruining my evening.

"This," I said, yanking out the small dagger and holding it above his head. "Is for proving that blonde bitch right." I shoved it into his forehead, watching a thin line of blood run down the side of his face.

"Hawke," Merrill gasped, walking closer to me, out of breath. "We need to go."

I inhaled, clutching my side. "Yeah." My head was dizzy; my thighs clenched around his torso. I reached for my dagger, still lodged in his forehead, and missed by a foot, overshooting my target.

"Hawke," Merrill prodded, sounding paranoid. "You're losing a lot of blood."

"Yeah." I picked up my knife and attempted to sheath it, only to find my belt gone. I stuck it into the waistband of my panties, instead.

"Your clothes are gone," she said, trying to give me a hand up.

"Yeah." I ignored her hand and tried to reach for my favorite dagger again. I fell forward, hitting my head on the cold ground. "Ow."

"Come _on_, Hawke," she insisted, grabbing my hand and pulling me. My legs wouldn't cooperate. Merrill released a stream of elvish words that flew right over my head, and I rolled my eyes.

"Shem here," I said, trying to lift my head. "Less elf, more human. Please."

Merrill groaned. "Please, Hawke!"

I rolled onto my stomach, the aching in my side flaring with the movement. I pushed myself off the ground, and Merrill steadied me. "Good," she said, holding me up. "Now to just...get to Darktown..." She sounded petrified of the walk. I slung my arm over her shoulder.

"Don't worry, Daisy!" I said cheerfully. "With me on your team, bandits don't stand a chance!"

"Ugh," she moaned, hefting me up. "You weigh more than a sack of potatoes," she complained. "Here." She limped me over to her house and kicked open the door, setting me in the entryway. "Don't die, okay? I'll be right back. Will you be okay here? I mean...I really don't want you to die or anything-"

I sighed and slumped over on the floor, and Merrill jumped. "Oh-okay, well, I'll be back!"

I watched her feet as she bounded away, leaving me in the dark house. Blood pounded in my veins, and in the stillness of the night, I felt my painful burns more acutely, stinging my skin from the inside out.

Was this how Fenris felt? How did he live with it? I eased backwards, trying to get further into the house. A few candles were lit in the main room, and I regarded them with wary eyes.

I scraped my back against the wooden floors, but I was more interested in the colorful burns on my flesh; they were more prominent on my stomach and calves, where the material had hugged my skin. My hair smelled a little singed, and I sighed.

After all the trouble I went through to grow it out, something like this had to happen and ruin it again.

I relaxed, letting my head fall against the floor. I stared up at her ceiling, smiling at the troublesome hole she had tried to fix. It wasn't so big; it would leak when it rained, but a patch of plywood would solve the...

* * *

><p>"Hawke," Anders said above me. Hands touched my waist and I shivered. "Can you hear me, Hawke?"<p>

"She lost a lot of blood," Merrill supplied, sounding tense. "Will she be all right?"

"She's suffered worse," Anders said, and that seemed to appease her. "Hawke, I'm going to lift you."

His arms held me up and pulled me from the ground; they were warm, pleasing, and avoided my wounds. I was placed on a soft surface that my body gratefully sank into.

"Her burns are superficial," he said, applying some kind of lotion. "Much like yours. A bit of aloe should stop the burning."

Aloe? As in the plant? I had some of those growing in my house.

"Most people do," Anders said, and my face scrunched. I didn't know I had said that aloud.

"You're quite out of it." He rubbed something onto the gaping wound in my side. "You _have_ lost a significant amount of blood; I suggest going home and eating a good meal. Take it easy, Hawke; you always wind up in these predicaments."

"Lucky me," I moaned as he pressed something down over my wound, wrapping a bandage around my waist.

"This will double as a corset," he said, teasing.

"Calling me fat?" I asked, dazed. I didn't feel hungry, but he told me to eat. That would help my blood come back? Why couldn't he just go snatch some of that bloody air and put it back inside me?

"Do you need help getting home?" he asked, avoiding the question. Smart man. I murmured something in the negative, but I didn't think it was coherent enough for him. The next thing I knew, I was being wrapped in blankets and carried away from Merrill's home by the apostate doctor, the sun making its debut across the chains and slave statues of Kirkwall.

* * *

><p><strong>Most hilarious moment of your life thus far?<strong>


	16. Mage Monday

**Outrageous, embarrassing, and crazy bunch of gamers. Some of you guys have a calm sense of humor (I'm sorry you have to share the internet with us), but we all have great memories of getting laughed at (or laughing at someone). Thanks for sharing them with me!**

**The most hilarious thing I can think of as of right now...a few months ago me and my friends were at the park (a park where people go to get shot in the face. Coincidence?) and one friend found a used condom. He then tossed it up and the air, and where does it land?**

**Mah face.**

**I beat him with a stick, but it was so fucking funny my friends almost peed their pants. Thank God for Germ-X, amirite?**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen: Mage Monday<strong>

_You made me cry 'cause_

_I didn't wanna tell you, I didn't wanna tell you_

_I need some love_

_That's true, yes I do, 'deed I do,_

_You know I do._

_Judy Garland, "You Made Me Love You"_

When I awoke, it was a slow feeling. I was first aware of my breathing, the stillness, the unspoken contentment in the air.

Then came touch. Soft breath fanning across my face, hair tickling my forehead, a pounding heart against my collarbone. My thighs and stomach had a particular tingling, unpleasant feeling that my thoughts shied away from, unwilling to identify what it was.

Restraints locked me in place, but it wasn't uncomfortable. I found myself averse to movement.

"You're awake," Fenris whispered into my hair.

I hummed, snuggling into the manacles of his arms. "Not for long."

He pulled away quickly only to snatch me back into a searing kiss, shooting electricity down to my toes in a powerful jolt. I was caught off guard as he smashed his lips to mine, pulling me tighter, crushing me against him.

"Fenris," I mumbled sleepily around his desperate mouth, my eyes still unopened. "I can't..."

His tongue shocked me as it brushed past my lips, immediately trying to tangle with my own. I suddenly didn't care if I couldn't breathe; all of my thoughts were composed of him, his mouth, his taste, _Fenris_.

"Oh, I," came a surprised, bashful voice. "S-sorry, miLady, but..."

My eyes opened and I pushed him away; he groaned at the loss of contact, and I nodded my head at Orana.

"Sorry, Orana," I said, my head woozy. "Is there..." I cleared my throat. "Is there something you wanted?"

She lifted the tray in her hands, which I hadn't noticed was even there. "I was only bringing you dinner, ma'am."

"Not breakfast?" I asked, feeling the need to collapse back into bed.

"You've been sleeping all day," she informed me as she set down the tray on the bed. "I overheard the good doctor saying you lost blood, so you've had good reason to stay in bed." She smiled and bowed. "I was making sure you ate something, like he said to, before I turned in for the night."

I dizzily crossed my legs and stared at the plate before me. I didn't feel hungry, but if Anders said I should eat...

"Thanks, Orana," I said, lifting a fork. I didn't bother checking to see what was on the plate; I knew it would be terrific.

"My pleasure, miLady." She departed.

Fenris wrapped an arm around my waist, his skin thrumming with activity. I closed my eyes and set the fork back down, leaning my face into his neck. He was stiff and unrelenting, but his body shook and shivered against mine, a wavering stone.

"What's wrong, Fenris?" I asked, cuddling into his warmth. My core temperature appeared to be lower than usual; goosebumps raised my flesh, and I lifted the blanket to cover my bare skin.

When he didn't answer, I looked up, surprised to find his tattoos were glowing. "Fenris?" I asked, unsure. My hand cupped his face. "Are you okay?"

"No," he said in a strained whisper.

"What do you need?"

Fenris looked away from me. "Eat."

"I'm not hungry," I said, confused.

"Eat," he insisted, shoving the fork into my hand.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong," I bargained, tossing the fork away. "Look at me."

He stared at the sheets, hiding his face. I pressed my hand harder against his cheek, yanking his face into my view.

The expression on his face broke my heart; he pressed his lips together, his mouth was twisted, and his eyes watered. His brow trembled as he tried to mask his emotional state, and his eyes held a sudden, terrible sadness.

"What's wrong?" I pulled him to me, wrapping my arms around his lanky frame. "Don't be sad, Fenris."

"I knew you were dead." He choked on the words. "I knew that Danarius had come back from the grave and took you from me. You said you would come back, Marian, and you _didn't_."

"Fenris," I whispered, pushing the tray of food away from us and forcing him down onto the bed with me. "I _did_ come back, sweetheart. I'm alive."

He shook his head, and I pressed his face into my throat and stroked his hair. "You said it wouldn't be hard. You said you were going to see a few friends. You were gone an entire _day_; no word, no appearance, _nothing_." He heaved a muffled sob into my throat, and I felt a minute, hot wetness run across my collar. "And then you show up half dead, unable to walk on your own, and you're unconscious for hours."

"I'm sorry," I said, at a loss for words. What could I possibly say? I didn't anticipate this kind of reaction from him.

How was he so_ attached _to me? No one had ever been so..._concerned_ about my well being before.

"_I thought you were dead_," he said, clutching me to him, and the conversation turned familiar.

He had said this before, hadn't he?

My two Fenrises were very much alike.

_I_ was the one who had changed.

"I love you," I said, pressing a kiss into his forehead. "I'm sorry I worried you, Fenris, but it takes much more than a blood mage and Meredith to do me in."

He inhaled a steadying breath and pressed his flat nose against me, holding me close. "I love you," he said, his voice breaking. "I can't...there are no _words_ to explain, Marian."

"You don't have to explain," I assured him, fully knowing what he was going through. "I've felt the same way before."

The desperation, the pounding heart, the innate _fear_ that the one I loved most was lost to me, unreachable, perhaps even deceased...

"Have you?" he asked, his arms surrounding my stomach as he pressed his face between my breasts unsexually. He craved contact, affection, _anything _that would confirm that I was alive and with him, and I knew my heart pounded against his cheek, his ear.

I nodded, pressing my cheek against his hair. "I lost you once, Fenris; it's a frightening, horrible feeling."

"How..." he began, and I already knew what was coming. "How did you lose me?"

I shook my head. I didn't know what to tell him; the truth? It would hurt him - he was already _so_ vulnerable to me. How could I plainly explain how I had sold him to Danarius?

I couldn't. I wouldn't. I wouldn't lie to him, either, but I couldn't justify giving him away like an unwanted stray or a broken possession.

"I can't," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I can't, Fenris."

"Why?" he whispered against my skin, pulling himself harder against me.

"I can't," I stressed, running my hands down his back. "Please, don't ask me to relive that." _Bad, bad, _bad_ Hawke._

He was silent for a while, and I sensed that he was forcing himself to advance from the subject matter.

I decided to help him. "What did you do all day?"

"Stayed in bed with you," he said immediately, and I pulled him up to lie beside me, chuckling.

"Not today," I explained, touching his cheek. "Yesterday. While I was gone."

He cocked his head. "Paced."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

Fenris ducked his head and placed a kiss on my throat, and I bared it to him. "I was told...stories."

"What sort of stories?" I asked distractedly as he trailed his kisses from my throat to my jaw line.

"Stories about you..." he said, meandering around my jaw. "And me."

This caught my attention; intrigued, I lowered my face to look him in the eye. "What did you think of the stories?"

He smiled, and it was the most natural smile I had ever seen his face wear. There was still a level of distressed panic in his eyes, but it was deep within and fading with each word we spoke. "They were...interesting." He moved his attentions to my collar, dropping kisses along the curved bone. "Especially the ones the pirate weaved..."

I groaned, only partially amused. "Those were probably fictitious," I warned. "Isabela has a fancy for racy tales."

His face fell. "You mean we didn't...know each other?"

"Of course we knew each other," I said, confused.

"No," he clarified, voice dropping. "Did we..._know_ each other?"

As if the innuendo weren't enough, his slender, scarred hand began to snake its path up my leg.

I jumped, yanking his hand from my thigh. "Fenris!" I admonished.

He ducked his head. "Forgive me if I was untoward in any way," he said, the tips of his pointy ears blushing. I sighed and dropped his hands.

"We _did_," I said reluctantly. "But it was a long time ago - before I realized I loved you."

"You slept with me even though you didn't love me?" he asked, brows furrowing.

I cringed. "Well, when you say it like _that_, it sounds awful," I said distastefully. "We had passion, Fenris; it was enough, at the time."

"Would you...consider doing it again?" he asked, sounding embarrassed.

My eyes met the ceiling and I snorted a laugh. "You've barely known me a few weeks," I said wryly.

"I've known you for years," Fenris responded, his voice lowering.

I shook my head and smiled sadly. "It isn't the same, Fenris. I'm a stranger to you. I couldn't condone it."

"I love you," he said pitiably. "Does that mean nothing?"

"It means everything," I confessed, eyes still on the ceiling. "It's just..." I struggled with my feeble words, trying to evaporate this problem before it got out of hand. I wasn't going to sleep with Fenris while he was so vulnerable; for Andraste's sake, he had barely lived outside of my estate. It would be like taking advantage of him, and that was wrong on _so_ many levels. I sighed. "Not now, Fenris."

"Soon?" he asked hopefully, his palm rubbing my waist affectionately.

I groaned, pressing my hands to my face. "Why do you always ask such hard questions?" I rhetoricized. Fenris laughed and grabbed my hands, pulling me upwards.

"Your food will grow cold," he explained, retrieving my abandoned fork. "Eat it," he insisted. "Eat, and tell me what Meredith wanted."

"Again with the tough questions," I said, rolling my eyes and taking a forkful of potato. "She tasked me with abducting three escaped mages."

"Are these dangerous people?" Fenris asked while I chewed. I shrugged.

"The one I faced last night was," I said, picking up a biscuit. Orana always made the best biscuits. "Merrill and I had our hands full with that one. I'm not sure what the other two are like." I scrunched my nose when I realized that my meat had gone cold.

"May I fight with you?" he requested, his hand caressing my naked leg.

I heaved a sigh. "You're an excellent fighter, Fenris," I said, taking a mouthful of cold meat.

"Is that a yes?"

"It's a _maybe_." I squinted my eyes. It wasn't a terrible idea; Fenris was an amazing asset on the battlefield. It would be my own personal opinion for him to stay behind, and that wasn't fair; I couldn't protect him forever, and I _did_ want him to attain more experience for himself.

Conceding, I knew that the next time I left the house, he would join me.

In doing what, I wasn't sure.

* * *

><p>I recovered through the night, and we set out for duty the next day. Fenris seemed disappointed when we found Emile in The Hanged Man, unopposing to his own recapture. I was glad for the reprieve in work, even if Emile was an idiot to be dealt with. I ordered Fenris a glass of wine while we were at the bar, and Varric laughed as his face flushed from the alcohol and the adorable, happy smile twinkled on his face.<p>

The walk to Darktown was uneventful. I stole glances at Fenris, decked out to the max in his tailored, spiky armor, and felt naked in my own leathers. Although that could have been the panty-dampening smolder he would shoot my way every other glance. I was growing less and less prepared to put up resistance, should he ask me for sex again.

Maker's breath, I was a bad woman. I did notice, however, the distinct lack of a red band that Fenris had worn over his wrist in recent years, and wondered where that might be. Lost in the slaver caves, most likely.

In Darktown, two filthy teenagers gave us a sob story about the one known as Evelina; apparently, she had fled Ferelden in the Blight; as far as I knew, she could have even been on the barge I had crossed over on. She had protected the two boys from harm, and when she arrived in the city and turned herself into the Circle of Magi, the templars locked her up for leaving her own circle.

They were unwilling to tell me where Evelina was located, but the eldest let it slip: Evelina was in the sewage tunnels.

"Great," I said, running a hand through my hair.

"I've been through worse," Isabela said sagely. She was pulling her own hair into a bun atop her head, wrapping her bandana around the ball to hold it in place. "This will be a piece of cake."

We approached the entrance to the tunnel, and Merrill grimaced. "It certainly doesn't _smell_ like cake," she complained.

"Cake that's been regurgitated, perhaps," Varric said in good humor. "This won't happen if we don't keep moving."

Merrill moaned when we lowered her in, sniffling at the nostril-burning smell. "I don't think I've ever inhaled something so...unnatural."

"Doesn't get anymore natural than this," said the good-natured dwarf.

"Smells like ass," Isabela commented. "Hot ass."

"Rotten cheese, as well," Varric volleyed.

"It's going to be a couple of rotting carcasses if you two don't shut up," I threatened. "We're looking for an apostate."

"We're looking for a woman scorned," Varric corrected. "If I were her, I wouldn't enjoy crossing the border just to be hauled off to jail."

"How dreadful," Merrill whispered as we traveled on.

"You okay to fight, Fenris?" I asked, wondering at his silent disposition.

"I will follow you," he said with certainty.

"Romantic," Isabela purred. "Now ask her to take her clothes off."

"I already have," Fenris confessed, earning the stunned silence and then rousing laughter, courtesy of Isabela and Varric.

"Did something dirty just happen?" Merrill asked. "I zoned out for a second, I'm sorry."

I was going to tell Merrill that nothing had happened when I felt the peculiar feeling of being watched.

Glaring into the shadows, I took a step backwards, my team following.

Bianca creaked as Varric strapped in an arrow, sensing whatever had alerted me. "We aren't alone," he said, catching my eye. I nodded at Isabela, and we both dissolved into shadow.

I crept along the wall, ignoring Fenris's disturbed searching. I realized that he had never seen me stealth before, and smiled.

He'd get an eyeful today.

"That's our cue." Varric whistled and pushed Fenris out ahead, and I fought the urge to slap the dwarf for behaving so rashly. "Go ahead, Broody. Show us what you're made of."

"What did you just call me?" Fenris asked, wide-eyed.

I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from groaning and giving away my position. Decidedly ignoring them, I snuck around the room, trying to get a good glance at whoever our foe may be.

Merrill cried out and cast a spell, and I jerked backwards only to see five shades rushing our group. I quickly searched for the spell caster as they dealt with the lackeys, coming up empty.

A sprung trap, it looked like. Varric shot arrow after arrow into the shades, knocking them over. They fell one by one, and I continued ahead, figuring they didn't need me there. I didn't know where Isabela had gone; she was more talented than I, and I knew I wouldn't be able to see her.

I stepped into a doorway and a cry rang out from the other room; stumbling forward, a sharp pain hit the edge of my shoulder and brought me to my knees while a piercing whistle shocked my eardrums.

Another rigged room; daggers had been laced in the wall, and I had sprung yet another trap.

Damn it; I clutched my bleeding shoulder, trying to stop the blood flow. An invisible hand clasped my neck and hauled me out of the way as my team pressed onward, giving no thought to the blood shed randomly on the floor.

"Pay closer attention," Isabela hissed. "I hope you didn't lose your head."

"Not this time," I whispered back. My shoulder had only been grazed; not bad enough to warrant a lecture.

_Fuck, I really _am_ a bad rogue. _

She let go and I lost her again. When I rounded a corner, the others were fighting a new round of shades.

Evelina must be paranoid if she assembled this kind of protection for herself.

She had to be some kind of powerful, too.

I moved ahead again, bewaring any other traps set in my way. I came to a hallway riddled with nasty traps, the kind involving knives and timed spikes.

There was a rhythm to the spikes; they stabbed the air every other beat of my heart, and I made sure of my count. In between their pounding, however, knives flew through the air, landing against the back wall of the hallway and disappearing into dust.

Mage work, and this woman was crafty. My first course of action was to find a way around the trap, but there was none. I had to go through the trap to deactivate it, and by then I would be mincemeat.

_How in hell am I supposed to_-

All at once, the traps halted. The spikes retreated. I stared suspiciously at the holes in the ground when I heard the deep laughter of a certain Rivainian.

"Isabela, how the fuck did you manage that?" I asked, trying to hold back my surprised, nervous chuckle. "I nearly butchered myself just _thinking_ about disarming this."

"My secret," Isabela said coyly. I couldn't detect where she was, but she was close. "Let's move."

I pulled out a short sword and moved onward into the next room, spying a few familiar heads.

My stealth dropped as I stepped forward. "What do you think you two are doing?" I asked the two boys from Darktown. The ones who informed me of Evelina's whereabouts, the Fereldens who escaped the Blight with an apostate. How had they gotten _in_ there?

"We thought if we warned her, she wouldn't be angry," the eldest said, eyes shifting. His hands clenched and unclenched, and I could see the perspiration on his palms. "We thought she-"

"Walter," called a sweet voice.

My head snapped in the direction of the voice and I raised my sword. "Evelina?"

"Run!" the boy screamed. "Run!" The two boys made a dash for the exit, but a woman was in the way. She extended her arms, offering an embrace. Her hair was brown, haggard, and tied in a knot at the base of her neck; her skin was cracked with age, and her eyes were empty.

"Don't run from me, Walter," she said fondly. "You know those are the rules."

"Hide and Go Seek has better rules," I said, sticking a hand in my pocket and fingering a small bomb. "I suggest we play that."

"This isn't a game, rogue," Evelina said, shifting her void gaze to me. "You know that."

"Could have fooled me."

"You play hero all you want," Evelina spat, a sudden spite filling her accented voice. "But I know what you really are. You're Ferelden. You're one of us, yet you _neglect_ your own kind by traipsing around the upperclass and dining on delicacies while we are never sure when our next meal comes! You're a piece of Ferelden shit, unworthy of your roots!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Tell me how you _really_ feel. Go on, do it."

"I _spit_ on you," she screamed, expression growing demented as she glared at me. The two boys ran behind my back, shielding themselves from her wrath. "And on the pathetic templars who sent you."

I really hated it when they didn't want to negotiate. Her voice took on a different cadence, one I recognized from years of fighting abominations. She transformed into a demon before my eyes, losing her feminine shape and trading it in for a bulgy, awful demonic form.

If I ever gave myself over to a demon, it would at least be a desire demon. Something pretty, feminine, and-

"Kirkwall should be mine!" the deep voice uttered, and I pushed the boys toward the exit, all thoughts of sexy demons set aside.

For now.

"But it's not, is it, bitch?" I said, tossing out my bomb. It ignited in their face and the abomination screamed, disappearing.

I backed around the room, skin thriving and on edge, waiting for her reappearance. I had no doubt that Isabela and I could handle her on our own, but I would never be able to find Isabela.

Evelina appeared five feet to my left, and I threw a knife in her direction. It lodged in her midsection, and she screamed. Another knife struck her through the back, and I saw the outline of Isabela peek around the abomination's bulbous body.

The abomination disappeared again, and Isabela ran to my side.

"I _spit_ on you," she mimicked in a deep voice. "What a boor."

Fire reigned down on us, and we ran for cover; sharp, burning pinpricks battered my skin and I bit my lip, running under the stairwell.

The abomination laughed, throwing its head back.

An arrow split through the air, wedging into its skull. The fire ceased, the abomination sizzled back into a Ferelden woman, and Fenris sprung down the stairs a second too late to be of use.

Seeing the threat was terminated, he examined the room hurriedly, searching.

"Fen Fen?" Isabela called, pushing me from under the cover of the stairwell. "Your girl is over here."

He whirled around, relief plastering on his face.

I winked at him. "Nice shot, Varric."

"Thank you, Hawke," Varric said from the top of the stairs. "You _should_ be thanking Bianca."

Rolling my eyes, I shot forward and grabbed Fenris's hand, holding it tightly in mine. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

><p><strong>What did you prefer playing? Mage, rogue, or warrior?<strong>

**_"This isn't a game."_  
><em>"Could have fooled me."<em>  
>*snort giggle snort* Get it? Because...it <em>is<em> a game...and...aw, forget it.**


	17. Perfect Prima

**6 Mages  
>3 Warriors<br>8 Rogues**

**(I think. I may have fumbled a bit, but rogues and mages were favored! We either liked rogues/warriors, or rogues/mages. Ha!)**

**Survey says: We like mages for the buffs and sniping, we like rogues for the sneakiness (and the ability to stop traps, open chests, and such) (and how sexy they are), and three people like warriors for the big swords (and how sexy they are). I always played a rogue or a mage, because let's face it: Fenris is tanky enough for every situation.**

**Warning**:**Not for kids. Or if lemons bother you, I'd skip this chapter. Yeah. Lemons. (Teehee's at the quote below)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eighteen: Perfect Prima<strong>

_Squeeze me, baby  
>'till the juice runs down my leg.<em>

_The way you squeeze my lemon,  
>I'm gonna fall right out of bed, bed, bed, baby.<em>

_-Led Zeppelin, Lemon Song_

* * *

><p>We tripped our way to Hightown, tired but accomplished. Varric, Isabela and Merrill had already gone their separate ways; Fenris and I took the scenic route, walking outside of Lowtown and Darktown, holding hands.<p>

We had to drop hands, however, once we reached the upper city. I lived in Hightown too long to not know how the petty gossip would run me out of my home; people who needed me knew better than to care, but the average snotty bitch wouldn't.

Still, parted hands and all, we received cold, judgmental looks. I kept my eyes on the sky and my temper cool, lest I start a scene.

"You, there," called an accented voice. I immediately snapped my eyes to meet his gaze. "You're the Champion of Kirkwall!"

"And you're telling a woman who she is," I replied. "Not a wise thing to do."

He chuckled. "Forgive me; I should explain myself." I had never particularly enjoyed foreign accents, but this one... there was something about it, something sensual about it in the way his lips curved to form the words, how his voice sounded smooth and deep in his throat. "I am Nuncio -" and that was all that I caught. The rest of his name became a gibbering mash of blurring sounds of his native tongue, and my heart pounded in my chest, my stomach tingling.

Whoa. Hearing a name had never done _that_ to me before.

"I am a nobleman from the beautiful country of Antiva," he said, charming smile on his lips. "How do you do, Champion?"

"Antiva?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. "I've never met an Antivan, but I've heard you're all charms and smiles until the sun goes down."

"And when the sun goes down we all become greasy, conniving bastards?" Nuncio laughed. "The tales are all true, I'm afraid."

"The sun is setting," I noted, my lip twitching.

"And I'm prepping an assassination crew," he said, smiling. His smile fell, though, and a serious look crossed his handsome, sea-weathered face. "Enough teasing, Champion Hawke. I need your assistance."

"I'm not a skilled assassin, I'm afraid," I said suspiciously.

"It is not for you to become an assassin!" Nuncio replied hastily. "There is an assassin of the Crows hiding amongst the Dalish. He is an abomination of Antiva, and too cowardly to show his face to us. No, we need you,_ Messere_, to _kill _an assassin."

A moan slipped past my lips before I could stifle it.

"He is a murderer," the Antivan said, his voice softening. "A thief. A liar. I would not ask you if he was not a dangerous man, Champion. He endangers the good people of this city."

Ha. Good people.

"You want me to use my wily, wily ways to find out where the elves are hiding this assassin?"

"My men cannot infiltrate the Dalish, I'm afraid," he said, taking a step back and staring at his boot-covered foot. "But I heard you know their Keeper. I would not ask if it were not of utmost importance."

I sighed. "I'll set out tomorrow, then," I said sourly, grimacing. "My companions and I are weary from our last outing."

"I understand," Nuncio jumped in, bowing. "Complete it at your own desire; I should warn you, though, that he is a criminal. At any moment he could be poisoning your...luscious city."

I tried to not notice that he cringed when he complimented Kirkwall. I did snort, though. He had clearly tried his best to sway me.

"As soon as I can get to it," I promised, striding away.

"Look for us at our campsite outside the city when you are done," said one of Nuncio's men. "We will not be in Hightown for long."

"Got it," I said, waving over my shoulder as I led Fenris away from them.

"That man," Fenris said, narrowing his eyes.

I have to admit, the first word that popped into my head was _brooding_. I smothered an errant giggle.

"Called you Hawke," he finished, sounding very ticked off at the fact.

"A lot of people call me Hawke," I pointed out as my house came into sight.

"Why?" Fenris asked, cocking his head at me. "Your name is Marian."

"Sometimes, I think they forget that Hawke is my maiden name," I said, smiling at him. "You're the only person who uses my first name."

"I prefer it," he confessed.

"I might be responsible for that," I said, unlocking my door. "I made you call me Marian when I first brought you home."

"Why didn't you insist on me calling you 'Hawke'?" he asked reasonably.

I shrugged, not knowing the answer, myself. "I suppose I grew tired of everyone being the same." I smiled and took his hand again, chasing the cold away from his fingers now that we were in the safety of my home. "I wanted you to be different."

"Am I a different person than before?" he asked as we ascended the stairs.

I nodded. "You are. You used to be spiteful and angry; there were few people you were civil with."

I fueled the fire in my bedroom as he absorbed what I said. "I was an ass?" he asked, dubious. "And you fell in love with me?"

Laughing, I pushed him onto the bed and toed off my boots. "You could say that. You could also say that you were a brooding elf with a frowning disability." I remembered the times Fenris and I had shared in The Hanged Man, at my home, on his living room floor... "You scowled at everyone, yet made jokes about dancing in your mansion. You were constantly angry at the world, but would laugh and find peace with me in secret." I smiled and touched his cheek. "We fell in love, Fenris; not because you were an ass, but because you are _perfect_ for me."

He smiled and grabbed my hand, pulling me on top of him and scooting further into the bed. I helped him pull off his armor and he mine, and then we snuggled, pressing our foreheads together and smiling together in the dim light.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" he asked, giving me a kiss. "You're beautiful, talented, intelligent, loving..."

"Looking for a loan?" I joked, embarrassed at his praise. "Or are you trying to seduce me?"

His chuckle was quiet as he leaned forward and gifted me with a long, slow, unsatisfying kiss that barely passed as platonic.

I groaned when he pulled away, resting his head on mine again. "You _are_ trying to seduce me," I complained.

"Is it working?" he asked, snagging my lip between his.

"I'll tell you in a minute," I promised, tracing his lips with my tongue. He sucked me into his mouth, pulled me closer, and I felt his erection press into my hip. I moaned and pulled his waist even closer, trying to get a better feel as my concentration wavered. He slid on top of me as our tongues twisted, vying for dominance.

Fenris pulled away, panting. "You're good at this."

I snorted and my cheek met the pillow as I tore my gaze away from him long enough to catch my breath. "You're evil." I refused to turn my head back to face him, lest I do something foolish.

He kissed my neck, nibbling on the soft flesh as his knees pushed my legs apart. He settled his hips in between my thighs and ground against me.

It wasn't much, but I groaned anyway; the blissful contact was beautiful, craved, needed...

I pushed him off of me and onto his back, rolling on top of him. I straddled his waist and felt his lungs fill beneath me, heaving, lifting me minutely with his gasping, uneven breathing.

"Not yet," I whimpered, looking him in the eye. The green enveloped me, pulling me in, forcing me to reconsider...

"Please," Fenris begged, his hands climbing up the sides of my waist. His wandering hands found my breasts, cupping, rolling, and his tattoos flared as I pressed my core against his stomach.

"_Not yet_." I gritted my teeth to keep from calling out, attempting to control my body's response to his continued probing. His hands fell lower and grasped the hem of my shirt, intending to pull it off me. My arms clamped down on my sides, preventing the action.

That didn't stop him; his powerful hands jerked the fabric, making a neat tear up the front and baring my chest to him. He slid his hands up my naked stomach and goosebumps formed in the wake of his touch.

"I need this," he whispered, hands gliding to my breasts again. "Let me have this. Let me have _you_." He wrapped his arms around my back and pulled me down to him for a kiss.

"Fenris," I moaned pitifully into his mouth. "I don't want to take advantage of you."

"You won't," he assured me, hands never leaving my skin. Always exploring, always moving; he paused only to finger each scar, tracing old wounds with his fingertip. When he reached the fresh, thin gash on my arm from where Evelina's trap grazed me, he gently leaned forward to inspect it.

Once he determined it wasn't life-threatening, Fenris held me still while his head bobbed down to place a delicate, sweet kiss on my wound.

A shock traveled to my core at the action and my skin jolted; it tore at me, and also gave me a fiendish idea.

"Fenris," I said, raising his chin with my fingers. I pulled his own shirt off, shrugged mine off my arms and hugged him to me. "There's something we_ can _do."

"Anything," he breathed, voice deep and scratchy.

I pulled him to where he sat on the edge of the bed, and he watched me warily. I sat in his lap and planted a kiss on his mouth; one long, lingering kiss that sent tingles to my toes and curled want in my belly.

"Marian," Fenris spoke against my lips, his tongue lashing out to lick mine. "I love you." His eyes opened and searched mine. "You know I do."

He looked up at me with such affection, such love and devotion, that I _had_ to hug him. I grinned and pulled him into me, pressing his head against my chest and wrapping my arms around his neck.

"I know you do," I said, running my fingers through his hair. I felt his hands creep up my sides until they were level with my chest and he slid his head down to lick a nipple.

I gasped, nearly falling off his legs. Fenris gave his own wolfish grin before tugging it into his mouth, licking a circle around the sensitive flesh.

I pushed his head away before my body did stupid things that I would regret. Blushing hotly, I kissed him once more before sliding to the floor, acting on my initial idea.

"Marian?" he asked, staring at me with an eyebrow raised. "Any reason why you're sitting on the floor?"

"Shut up," I commanded, rolling my eyes. "Lie back and you'll figure it out."

He did as I said with a peculiar smile on his face, obviously wondering if I was daft.

My first mission was to get his leggings off him. He never wore shoes, anyway, so it was an easy task; soon, his clothes were on the ground and I was face-to-face with his - well, rather impressive - hardening shaft. I noted vaguely that the three white dots on two sides of it were a healed, natural white, and winced when I remembered that they had to have hurt like hell.

I stared at it, suddenly confused at how this was going to work. Isabela had talked about it before, but the cocks she sucked had to have been _much_ smaller than Fenris's.

"Are you sure you're an elf?" I asked suspiciously. They were supposed to have smaller ones, after all.

"Not entirely," he said amiably from the bed. I giggled, recognizing the true statement.

My hands traced the white lines that snaked up his thighs, my fingers barely touching the ghostly tattoos. He shivered, and my head nodded forward, making a slow beginning.

Well, I had _planned_ a slow beginning. I started by licking the tip, my tongue tasting the top of his manhood, and he bucked his ass off the bed, gasping.

I yanked my head away, afraid of losing it. My hands remained on his thigh as his torso shot up, his wild eyes meeting mine.

"Do that..." The emerald orbs darkened in color. "Do that again."

Who was I to refuse such an order?

I held his gaze and dipped my head again, clenching his thighs with my fingers and hoping he didn't knee me in the boobs. I wrapped my lips around the head of him and licked the tip, circling it, kissing it...

He groaned and threw his head back, his hand resting in my hair seemingly on its own as he tried to make sense of the feelings I gave him.

Satisfied when he didn't knee me across the room, one of my hands relinquished his knee in favor of his shaft. Fenris sucked in a breath as I gripped him, pulling my mouth from him with a resounding "pop".

He didn't taste awful; at least, not anything like Isabela had said. She described it as "licking cleaning fluids", but I tasted nothing foul in Fenris. Had she ever been with an elf? Maybe it was the species that was different.

I dragged my tongue down the side of him, moistening up his skin. Once I was satisfied with how slippery Fenris was, I wrapped my hand around his shaft, my eyes rolling when one hand wasn't enough for all of him.

I carefully unclenched the fingers of my other hand from his thigh and placed it, too, on his cock, squeezing once. His breath shuddered and his stomach dipped as he basked in the sensation, his own hands tearing my sheets in his fingers.

I smirked. They were expensive sheets, sure, but I took pleasure in seeing him come undone; _I_ did this to him. _I_ made him sweat and pant with need. _I _made him hard.

My mouth went to his tip again, and I sucked it inside my mouth, my tongue slipping against it. I took it in as far as I could, and when it hit the back of my throat, he hissed and clenched his legs. I was afraid to go further, afraid of triggering a gag reflex and throwing up on him - that would _definitely_ ruin the mood.

As I wavered on whether or not to try and take him in all the way, his hips quivered and thrust on their own accord, making my decision for me; Fenris's dictating mind had all but fled the scene, and I was sure he wouldn't be doing this if he was in his right mind. Kind of sure. A _little_ sure.

Nevertheless, his cock pressed past the back of my throat, going deeper. I _did_ gag, but years of working on my squeamishness helped hold my stomach. It also helped that I hadn't eaten recently, I supposed. He cried out at the sensation, and I flattened my tongue against the bottom of his shaft as I worked him in, trying to keep my gags to a minimum.

I felt like I choked on a zuccini, and vowed to tell Orana to plant them in her small garden. I foresaw myself growing fond of the vegetable. My hands went to his hips when my nose met his pelvis, and I paused, giving him time to feel me.

I swallowed once around him, and he thrust forward again, his face filling with tension. I slowly slid him out far enough to take a deep breath before sucking around his tip again, stroking my hands up and down the length of him, unwilling to take him in all the way again. At least, not yet; I anticipated a sore enough throat in the morning as it was.

"Marian," he moaned. His cock twitched.

It took a lot of willpower to keep from giggling.

Seeing that he was getting closer, I sped up my movements, going faster; I never took him in all the way, and what I couldn't take in, my hands worked over.

He wasn't intimidating anymore; he was dominated by _me_, by _my_ mouth, by _my_ hands. Who gave a fuck how big he was? I loved him, he was _mine._ I would overcome anything for him, even my gag reflex. Especially my gag reflex.

Okay, I'd have to work on my gag reflex, but _still_.

"Marian," he cried, voice husky, body trembling.

_Fenris_, I wanted to answer back, if only for amusing purposes. However, my mouth...was full.

He grunted, and I sucked him in to the back of my throat.

Maker knows why I ever paid attention to Isabela when she spoke about fellatio, but I prided myself for accomplishing this, all due to her teaching. My giggles locked inside of me as I remembered how she tried to teach me the art of seducing a man by using bad euphemisms and dirty slang.

Who knew it would come in use?

Too bad I never heard the end.

Fenris cried out, his deep voice filling the room as his tattoos began to glow a bright, clear blue. His hips left the bed as he held himself in my mouth and came in a long, slow affair, streaming and puslating into my mouth.

_Now_ I knew why she told me to put it at the back of my throat; it was much easier to swallow without tasting, but his seed got stuck in my throat, sliding sickeningly down to my stomach.

Ugh, I could have lived without _that_. It didn't taste of anything extreme, but the_ texture_...

He panted, his body trembling, sweat pebbling on his skin. The light from his tattoos shuddered with every tremble his body made, and the effect was dizzying. His hips slowly sank back onto the bed, and he rested his head on my mattress.

I finally pulled my mouth all the way off of him, being sure to clean off his tip. He cried out and jerked away when I licked him again, and I smiled devilishly at the discovery.

Satisfied that everything was well and done, I held onto the bed and pulled myself up, hearing my knees pop as I stretched.

Fenris was unmoving, his lyrium scars growing fainter during each haggard pant. I skimmed my fingers up the entrancing patterns on my way to his head as I crawled onto the mattress, enjoying the sight of him undone.

All traces of the intensity of before dissipated and left behind a serene, calming expression. His mouth hung open slightly as he breathed, his eyes were shut, and his skin was slick with sweat.

I kissed his cheek, and green eyes opened to meet mine.

"Hi," I said, smiling at him.

"Hi," he replied, voice rumbling. My skin pebbled at the deep resonance, and I placed a hand on his chest.

"You look tired," I pointed out, running my hand up his chest to his neck, briefly touching across his collarbone.

"Mmmm," he returned, closing his eyes again. "Give me a moment."

"Take all the moments you need," I said generously, shifting my weight to my knees so I could use both hands. I touched his jaw on either side, traced his long, pointed ears with my fingertips, his eyelids, his straight nose...

"I've never done that before," I confessed, stroking his cheekbones. "How do you feel?"

"Like pudding," he responded, and I giggled.

"That's good?" I asked, caressing his lips.

"It's..." he struggled with the clarification. "Utterly amazing. _You're_ amazing."

I tried not to puff my chest out in pride. I wasn't as satisfied, that was true, but this was a...surprisingly wonderful substitute. The only thing I could do now was press my thighs together and hope for a lengthy bath in the morning.

_The question: Cold and short, or long and warm?_

"Thank you," he said, breaking me from my thoughts. I leaned down to kiss his nose.

"No need to thank me," I said, pressing my cheek against his. "I love you. This is what lovers do." _When they're avoiding intercourse._

Seeming to regain his mind and push away the "pudding", he inhaled and opened his eyes. The iris of his eye was too wide in diameter to be human; if nothing else, his eyes pointed him out as an elf. If he were to cut his ears, change his nose and wear shoes, his eyes would always tell another that he was of elven blood.

I loved his eyes.

His arm reached out and wrapped around my naked waist, pulling me onto the bed against him. He propped his head on his fist and elbow when we scooted into position, him lying slightly above me, his hand molding to the skin of my side.

"It feels unfair, though," he said, heaving a theatrical sigh. I smiled up at him, touching his marked chin.

"What feels unfair?" I asked.

"That you should feel no such relief," he said, and his hand slid from my waist to my hip, from my hip to my...

I jolted, wiggling out of his reach. "F-Fenris," I stuttered, backing away from him. "What are you doing?"

"Returning the favor," he said, grabbing me and pulling me back to him. "It's only fair, Marian."

I giggled nervously and pushed him away. "It'll only make more problems; let's just go to sleep, okay?"

"I promise I'll be good," Fenris declared, wearing an unconvincing, evil smile. He pulled me underneath him, kicking my legs apart and locking my hands above my head.

"Fenris..." I warned half-heartedly, my skin quivering when his hand dipped low. His fingers danced along my pelvis and a rhythmic pulsing started somewhere in my core.

"Please," he asked, smoldering down at me. "Let me touch you. Let me please you."

I groaned and looked at the ceiling, avoiding his probing gaze. Was this taking advantage of him? Was this abusing him in any way?

"You're my...responsibility," I forced out as his fingers teased lower.

"Let me have the responsibility for a while," he said, taking my lips in a kiss and fogging my brain. "I want you to feel bliss as I do."

How could I refuse?

* * *

><p><strong>Some people have a problem with oral sex. Do you?<strong>

**Happily noted: Just sent off the epilogue for review to my non-official beta. She thought it was great, so I'm posting a two-fer in celebration!**


	18. My Marian

**Warning: If you skipped in the last chapter, you'll want to skip the first portion of this one, too.**

**We love us any kind of lovins - oh yes, we do. (Although I have to admit that there were one or two spoil sports who think it's icky - if you didn't like the last chapter, beware this one.)**

**Chapter Eighteen: My Marian**

* * *

><p><em>Don't carry on<br>Carrying efforts  
>Don't go, no.<br>Stay with me...  
>-Sufjan Stevens, Enchanting Ghost<em>

* * *

><p>His breath cascaded across my face, muddling my thoughts. I gasped when his fingers made contact with my covered core, exploring with measured slowness. My hips pressed forward, seeking closer contact, more pressure. When he noticed my positive reaction, he slid a single finger against me with heavenly force, smattering my thoughts.<p>

My cheek hit the pillow as my head moved on its own, pressing away from the enhanced pleasure.

Holy Andraste, when was my last time? _Three years_ ago? And even then, I didn't get off.

I squirmed against the bed as his finger pressed against my opening, teasing me in a delightful way. My legs fell open of their own accord, granting him greater access, and he chuckled.

"Feel good?" he whispered into my ear. I moaned raggedly, embarrassed at the slip but already too far gone to care. Fenris nuzzled my neck with his ear as he forced his finger harder against me, working at a steady tempo; I felt his smile against my skin. "My poor girl," he purred, and his palm slipped against me as he continued my torment. "You've been sorely neglected, I hear."

"You...hear?" I stammered, barely able to comprehend his words.

"I heard you haven't been..._satisfied_ in quite a decent time," Fenris explained, never ceasing the rubbing of his hand below. Heat twisted in my belly, curled my toes and stretched my legs apart as far as they would go. "I plan to change that."

"You plan to..." Fenris leaned down to kiss my breast before leaving my torso altogether in favor of my desire below. "_Oh_."

I whimpered when his hand left my core, and inhaled sharply when his hands reappeared at the waistband of my pants. He pulled down both pants and underwear in one go, freeing myself to him, pushing my legs away from each other.

"_Marian_," he hissed, and a finger lightly touched my clit. I sucked in air again, my legs trembling.

_I need this._

_I need this._

_I need this._

I cried out when his finger trailed down to my entrance again, parting my lips; this time, no cloth separated our skin from contact, and nothing kept his finger from sliding quickly into my hot warmth.

He groaned as loudly as I at the feeling of his slender finger sliding through my slick heat. He kept his steady pace, moving slowly but working deftly, with purpose.

"'s been too long," I babbled, my breath hitching in my throat. "Maker, 's been too long..."

"Not yet," Fenris said, the pace of his finger slowing.

I wanted to hit him.

"Savor this," he instructed quietly, pulling out his finger.

I wanted to hit him _hard_.

"There's no reason to rush," he said, and when I looked up to glare at him, he smiled at me. "Relax. Let me take care of you."

I huffed and my head hit the pillow again. Why was I worried about abusing him? He was clearly abusing _me_.

_Stupid, amnesiac elf. This isn't _fair.

I ached at his absence, but not for long; shortly after he spoke, two fingertips began circling my entrance, and I fisted the sheets at my head. I waited for them to dip into me, waited for them to invade and conquer, but they never traveled further than half an inch into my core.

Groaning with want, I felt myself become wet and heavy with moisture. The coil inside me tightened with each inadequate movement of his hand, needing deeper strokes, greater pressure...

His fingers carried the motion of circling up to my clit, rubbing gently around the sensitive bud. I thrust and bit my lip, my neck straining as I fought to contain myself. Fenris took his time exploring every inch of my privates, learning what made me moan with need and pant with suppressed desire.

In essence, he drove me insane, repeating the cycle: upwards stroke, circle, downwards stroke, circle. He kept his pressure light, knowing it was all I needed to come undone.

Just when I thought I would go insane, his fingers left me completely.

"Don't," he said, kissing my lips. "Don't come. Not yet. I'm not _finished_."

"Please," I cried, squirming. "Please, please, _please_."

"Wait," Fenris ordered, which was a strange thing, coming from him.

In the time it took for our conversation to take place, my need had slowed to a simmer. That must have been his idea all along, for when he returned his attentions to my hunger, he slid two fingers into my entrance without warning.

I was barely stretched, but it was enough; his long, textured fingers enticed my craving, hitting my walls in divine ways. My back curved and I clamped down on his fingers, only to have his fingers halt their movements.

My orgasm dissipated before it had a chance to begin, and I moaned pathetically at the loss.

"I said not yet," he teased, and his head bent over to take a short lick of my clit. I choked, my eyes clenching shut, and his fingers began their slow rhythm again, building, building...

It went on forever; the constant, slow thrusting; the small, tender licks. My head was about to explode, my veins were bursting with the craving.

It had been_ too long_.

"Please, please, please, please, please," my mantra repeated in waves. "Fenris, Fenris, Fenris, Fenris, Fenris."

He sucked my clit between his lips and my skin shivered. My mind blanked with each stroke, and smattering images painted my mental image; his face, his skin, his face at my core, his tongue, his lips, his hands...

"Oh," I breathed, feeling a warm tension move to my sex. "Oh, oh, oh."

"Close, love," he purred from below, his tongue twisting in circles.

"Oh..."

His other hand parted my lips for him, allowing him greater access. His fingers hit deeper points inside of me, pushing at my walls as he caressed me from the inside.

"Oh..."

His fingers picked up their steady beat, thrusting inside of me in quick, stabbing strokes. His tongue moved faster, pulling and tugging, licking and sucking, and I didn't stand a chance.

I screamed his name as I came, my legs twisting in the covers of my bed. My voice rang throughout the house, I was sure, all over Hightown - but I _didn't_ care, because I was coming and Fenris helped me over the edge.

I didn't know if it lasted hours, days, seconds, or minutes - I was only ever aware of Fenris's hushing, soothing voice and his ever-present fingers working me, keeping me at my height, pushing me higher.

I lost myself in the feeling, lost my mind, lost my body; at the last moment, Fenris brought me back by placing a soft, tender kiss against my parted lips, pulling me back to real life, back to gravity, and love, and warm.

"Feel better?" he teased, kissing my nose. I pushed myself into his chest, pressing my nose against his throat and trembled. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me securely against him as I tried not to be overcome.

Fenris chuckled and held me close. "I was going to continue, my Marian, but it appears you need me up here more than you need me down there."

I nodded pathetically, and he lifted me, pulling the covers down and then shielded us with them, encasing our heat and love in a tiny bubble. I didn't know if I could speak yet, but I wanted to say something, to thank him for the gift he had given me.

He brushed my hair with his fingers, smoothed the perspiration off my back and tightly embraced me, assuring me that he wasn't going to let me go.

Finding my voice, I licked my lips and tried to quell my shaking.

"Marian?" he asked, laying his chin on my head.

"Can I keep you?" I asked, voice quaking with the aftershocks.

Fenris hummed and rubbed my skin until I fell asleep, blissful and sated.

* * *

><p>"Milady," Orana said, knocking on the door. My head shot up, my brain feeling fuzzy. "Milady, Anders has called upon you. He waits in your study."<p>

"Anders?" I mumbled, fogged with sleep. "Anders is here?"

"Yes, Milady," Orana said patiently. "I sent him to your study and told him you were still in bed."

I grunted and rolled out of bed, wiggling out of Fenris's grasp. He huffed and rolled after me with clutching hands, and I danced away, moving across the room.

He chased me around the bed, and I giggled, ducking and dodging.

"I'll be down in a minute," I called to Orana, laughing madly when Fenris finally caught me and tickled my sides. I batted him away, giggling and snorting, and tried to put on my clothes. He hindered me, halting my progress with quick kisses and obvious gropes until I finally slapped him off me.

Once I was decently dressed, I pushed Fenris back onto the bed and ran away, barefoot and hair wild.

He laughed at my retreating figure, and I slammed the bedroom door behind me, smuggling a grin from our room.

* * *

><p>"Hawke," Anders said in greeting, standing in my study. Tea was served on a small dish reserved for guests, and I thanked Orana for the hot drink while I poured a glass.<p>

I had always missed Ferelden tea. All of the tea in Hightown was bitter and served hot - not the best drink for a warm, muggy day, but welcome when my throat was sore from a night of sucking cock. My face went hot at the thought, and I picked up a random document from a desk to fan myself. Anders' Manifesto?

"Hey, Anders," I said, gesturing for him to sit in one of my chairs and willing my blush away. He declined, choosing to pace instead. I raised my eyebrow at his fidgety behavior. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I-" when he caught my 'cut the shit' look, he stopped and sighed. "I must ask something of you, Hawke, and I'm unsure of how to approach it."

"Anything," I said immediately, trying to cast his fears aside. "You've been a dear friend, Anders; you've helped all of us. One request will not change that."

He smiled. "You're a good friend to have, truly." His warm amber eyes were tired, speaking to me of sleepless nights and hard work.

"You look like you've had a rough time," I noted, my attention drawn to the dark circles on his face.

"I've been busy," was all he said. "I can't tell you why, Hawke; not yet. I need your faith."

I raised my eyebrows.

"I must get inside the Chantry."

My eyes narrowed. "You've never been one for religion, Anders."

Anders ducked his head. "I'm sorry, Hawke. I can't explain myself. Not yet."

"You know, you could try walking in the front doors," I hinted, smiling a little. "It's always worked for me."

"I can't be seen," he responded. "I wouldn't ask you if I didn't need your help."

I regarded his solemn expression carefully, but my decision was already made.

"What do you need me to do?"

* * *

><p>"I'm worried if I step within one-hundred feet of the place, I'll catch fire," Isabela said warily, gazing up at the grand structure. It was still dark out; the sun was hours from rising, and my companions hadn't been extremely excited at being woken at such an hour.<p>

"We're already within the one-hundred foot radius, Rivaini," Varric informed.

"I know," she said morosely. "Am I sizzling yet?"

"You don't have to go inside if you don't want to," I said. "Anders and I are the only two people who really need to enter, anyway." I slipped her a sovereign. "Go get a drink on me."

She raised her eyebrows at the gift. "Are you serious?"

"I owe you," I said without much in the way of an explanation. She would know. Isabela laughed and walked away, leaving Fenris, Anders, and Varric at my side.

"That was generous," Varric said.

"Let's get moving," Anders prodded, walking up to the Chantry. "Do you know what to do?"

"I've got an idea, yes," I said. "Out of the three of us, we should be able to keep her busy."

I worried for Anders; there was a desperate, haunted look in his eyes, and it frightened me. Desperate men do desperate things when pressured.

I caught his hand as he turned to walk away. "Just...don't do anything you'll regret, okay?"

Anders nodded and we entered the Chantry; he split off from our group immediately, and we entered the main chapel.

"He's been acting strange lately," Varric commented quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"He pulled Merrill and I into a wild goose chase to exorcise Justice from him about two months ago," Varric explained as we approached the alter.

"How was he going to manage that?" I hissed, ducking my head. Why didn't he tell me this?

Varric shrugged. "We collected all kinds of materials for him to use; I don't remember what they were called, but we went to the Bone Pit and the sewers to retrieve them."

The Grand Cleric came into view, and we ascended the steps to speak with her.

"Have you come to pray?" the kindly old woman asked. We were a lot alike, she and I; neither of us saw the need for the extreme behavior. We wanted peace, cohesive movement; there was no reason why mages and templar couldn't form a united mission. If we could only reach mutual understanding...

"I want to hear your stance on the mage and templar dispute," I said, standing before her. "I wish to know what the Maker would desire in a situation such as this, between blind rebellion and oppression."

"You have fanned the flames of rebellion yourself, Hawke," the woman said, her blue eyes hardening. "You count apostates among your friends, protect them. This is no secret amongst the people." She inhaled, leveled her footing. "I believe that Orsino and Meredith need only time to work out this issue and their differences themselves. No good will come of me - or you, for that matter - taking sides."

"Wise counsel," I said, glancing over her shoulder for Anders. No show. "But surely you must see the plight of the mages for what it is? They have been oppressed in this city-state, if only for being born a certain way."

The poor woman looked exhausted. She must have heard this argument in her halls for hours. "I feel for the mages," she said emphatically. "I do. I would not wish to be locked in the Gallows as they are.

"But I _cannot _take sides. We are all the Maker's creatures, but magic allows abuses beyond the scope of mortals. I only hope I can balance the needs of everyone; for if it comes to war, it is the people of this city who will lose."

I took her words solemnly, knowing she was right. I suddenly wished that I had never agreed to bring Anders here; whatever he was doing...whatever he accomplished here, it couldn't be right.

"Hawke," Anders said, walking up to me side. "There you are. I've been looking for you." He smiled at me, then turned to scowl at the Grand Cleric. "Your Grace."

She looked him in the eye, seeing that he had been up to nothing admirable. I worried that he had been found out, that we would all be punished for assisting him in whatever he had just done. "Your soul is troubled, child. I hope you found a balm for it here."

Anders swallowed and nodded to her, and I said a hasty good bye. We retreated from the holy place, distancing ourselves from the watchful eyes of the old woman.

* * *

><p>Anders laughed as we entered his clinic, his woes momentarily forgotten. "Thank you, Hawke; for the first time in my life, I feel as if I have done the right thing."<p>

Uh oh.

"I've sought out Justice and, for once, worked beside of him instead of against him. It is a beautiful, glorious feeling!" Elated, he extended his arms to hug me, pulling me against him and twirling me around. "Justice is exultant."

"Uhm, Anders," I started timidly. He held me at a loose arm's length, smiling. I could count the hairs of stubble on his chin from my position. "Will you tell me what you did?"

He released me, but was too high on excitement to frown. "My friend, you are Champion," he said. "It's better if you focus on that role and do not complicate yourself with mine; nothing will trace back to you, I'm sure of it. You will be innocent of all involvement."

I really, _really_ didn't like the sound of that. "Anders..." I looked up at him, holding his gaze. "I trust you, Anders." I was trying to convince myself more than him. "Whatever you did back there...I hope you had a very good reason."

"Only the best," Anders said, kissing the top of my head. "Run along, now, love. The clock is ticking; I'm sure you have much to do in between now and tonight, for the sun is just beginning to show. I have done what I was born to do; the war will rise."

I sighed and left, knowing nothing I could ever say would change what had transpired in the Chantry; I would never change his mind. So I went home; I took the shortcut and arrived just in time to see Fenris, Varric and Merrill preparing to leave.

"What's all this?" I asked.

"We're going to see the Dalish," Merrill said, smiling. "And I wanted to talk to you."

"Okay," I said warily. "But first - why the Dalish?"

"The assassin needs to be dealt with," Fenris informed me.

I slapped my forehead. "Right!" Merrill grabbed my arm and pulled me aside; it seemed as if the world had sped up, and my calm lifestyle had been jumpstarted. Everyone needed my help, everyone wanted me to fight something.

Even Merrill. "I've thought about it, Hawke, and I think now is the time."

"What time?" I asked, feeling worn.

"About five-thirty in the morning," she answered, and I rolled my eyes.

"No, what do you want my help with?"

"The Eluvian," she said breathlessly, childish green eyes widening. "I'm so close to making it work, finally.

"The spirit, the one that helped me in the beginning, I need to speak with it again."

"Merrill," I hesitated, knowing what she wanted. "Are you sure? Have you thought this over, like I asked?"

"Yes," she said, grabbing my hands in her small ones. "I've thought about it, Hawke, and I've made my decision.

"I'm going to Sundermount to speak with the demon there, and I need you with me. I need you to strike me down if I become possessed."

Merrill sounded so sure, so absolute, that I couldn't say no. The only thing I knew was that I wasn't going to kill her today. I glanced around the room, spying a thick piece of paper on my desk.

"We need to head that way, regardless," I said, leaving her and walking over to my writing desk. A note from Orsino, asking my presence.

Of course.

"Head out to Sundermount; ask the Dalish where the assassin lies, and wait for me there."

"And you?" Fenris asked, attentive of my every movement as I gathered spare weapons. I tossed him a blade; mostly for luck, and if anything should go wrong without me there, well, he may have need of a backup weapon.

"Orsino has called upon me," I said, walking over to him. "Help yourselves to my weapons.

"It's going to be a long day."

With a kiss from Fenris, I left, feeling the smiles of the young elf and the mischievous dwarf on my back.

* * *

><p>"Thank you for coming, Champion," Orsino greeted as I entered his office.<p>

"Not without precautions," I said, smiling. "It's still early morning; shouldn't Meredith be getting her beauty sleep?" I fluffed my hair for effect. "It must take her hours to perfectly coil each of those curls."

He chuckled, waving me towards a seat. "I don't blame you for wishing to avoid Meredith; not many associate with me of late because of her ire."

"When have I ever been afraid of Meredith's ire?" I laughed, rubbing my neck. I had been awoken too early in the morning and had much to do for the day; I wished to escape the pleasantries. "What do you need, Orsino? If you want me to play a trick on her, I could round up some crickets and put them in her bedchambers," I offered.

Orsino shook his head ruefully. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Champion, but that isn't why I called you here. A crisis has appeared before me, and I cannot seek templar aid."

"And?" I prompted. "What's going on?"

"Mages are resorting to drastic measures to rebel," he said, sighing. "I cannot ask the templar for help without making every mage a target."

"Let me guess," I said bitterly. "You wouldn't ask if you didn't need my help?"

"If you refuse, I can-" Orisno started, but I cut him off.

I shook my head. "I'll do it, whatever it is. As early in the morning it is, this is the third request I've heard spoken in such a manner."

"A busy woman," Orsino sympathized. "I am grateful for your assistance, Champion." He went straight into business, and I crossed my arms. "Several of my mages leave the Gallows at night, sometimes for days at a time."

My eyebrows shot up. "How do they manage this?" Seriously, what the hell did the templar do all day? Diddle themselves?

"I do not know," he said. "But I know they cannot be up to anything good. I hate jumping to concusions, but the idea of blood magic has crossed my mind.

"In reality, I have no idea what they are up to. It could be anything; they could be taking a long stroll down the coast, seeking personal pleasures, dining at the Hanged man, or..."

"Consulting with demons?" I inserted. He nodded stiffly.

"You understand what a threat they are to the rest of us, the ones innocent of such transgressions?"

I nodded, finding it mildly ironic that he was worried about apostate and demon involvement when I, myself was planning to assist an apostate bloodmage do the same.

Orsino sighed and clasped his hands. "I must confess I've confronted your friend, the guard captain, with this matter."

"That's a little dangerous, Orsino," I said, standing.

"If she is friends with you, I doubt she would say anything to the Knight-Commander," Orsino replied. "She received information that lead her to the Docks."

"Did she go alone?" I asked.

"I do not know."

"I'll be back," I promised, walking out of his office.

I went straight to Lowtown and right up Isabela's crotch. The sun was barely up and she was three sheets to the wind; I shouldn't have given her the sovereign.

I ordered a pitcher of water, and the men of the Hanged Man drooled around us as I poured it across her face and chest. She sputtered and spat water in my face, and I told her I needed her for a job.

Next, I ran to Darktown to recruit Anders. I didn't know what kind of mess Aveline walked into, but I wasn't going to make the mistake of going alone; once I had them both at my side, we made our way to the Docks.

We had to dig deep, but once we got there, we entered the heat of a battle. Aveline as backed into a corner, surrounded by mages and templar both. It appeared that she _had_ come alone, and she was currently trying to talk her way out of being killed.

I threw a knife the moment Isabela disappeared; my knife struck a templar in the skull as Isabela stabbed a mage through the heart; Anders incapacitated a few templar, and Aveline was thrown into the mix.

All in all, the whole fight lasted about five minutes. They were all young, all immature and untrained.

They fought bravely, and I admired them even as I struck them down.

"Hawke," Aveline said, red hair flying about her face. Her hair ribbons had come undone and her hair had exploded in a mass of orange and red. "You had me worried for a few seconds, there."

"You know I wouldn't let anything happen to you, Ruby." I hugged her.

"Ruby?" she said, trying it out. "I like it."

I bowed.

"Hawke," called a familiar voice. "Maker's breath, I told them not to do it!"

"Do what?" I puzzled, turning to see a templar holding up defensive hands.

"They've been rallying, Hawke," Aveline said. "Mages and templar. They're fighting against Meredith." She met my gaze. "They count you as an enemy, Hawke. That's partly my fault."

"An enemy?" I rubbed my forehead. "I didn't even _know_ about them until an hour ago!"

"I showed at one of their meetings and demanded they explain themselves," Aveline admitted. "I thought my status as Captain would keep them from attacking, but they associated me with you. They said that you were working with Meredith and couldn't be trusted."

I groaned. "I'm not working with _anyone_!" I insisted.

"I swear, if I knew that it was you they were talking about, I would have warned you," Keran said. I recognized him; I had saved him a few years back, and he had become a templar. "I don't hold with kidnapping, not after what happened to me."

"Kidnapping?" I asked, cocking my head. "What do you mean?"

"I would have never let them kidnap anyone I knew was one of yours," Keran said.

"One of mine?" I felt something in the pit of my stomach, something anxious. "Spit it out, Keran."

"A hostage was taken to the Wounded Coast," he blurted. "They thought Aveline was a spy, so they sent someone to a home. I didn't know whose home, they never said, but now I know -"

"It was your home, Hawke," Aveline said gently. "They sent people to your home to capture a hostage."

"It wasn't me," I said carefully. "Could they have left empty-handed?"

"No, they've got someone," Keran interjected.

"Orana?" I wondered. "Bodahn?"

"For certain, they wouldn't have taken Sandal," Aveline said. "He's only a boy."

Keran shook his head. "We just got word - they took some elf, from Tevinter; he had strange markings and spoke in an accented voice. He took down four men before they caught him!"

"You dumbasses," Isabela said, appearing at my side. "That was the absolute worst choice you could have made."

I growled in my throat, fixing Keran with a deadly glare. "You bastards will all pay if you hurt him - do you understand?"

_You've done it again, Hawke._

"We wouldn't hurt him!" Keran quickly assured me. "Just make sure you left us alone. We _have_ to take Meredith down or we'll have open war on our hands!"

_You abandoned him._

"I. Am. Not. Siding!" I yelled. "With _anyone_!" Storming away, I pressed my fingertips to my temples, remembering how Fenris and I had playfully wrestled in my bedroom that morning. I ran back up to Keran and slapped him across the face. "You're all fucking _idiots_ for not sending someone to speak to me! Instead, you've ensured that everyone involved with the situation will get their asses killed!"

_He wasn't alone when I left. Why was _he_ taken?_

Shaking my head and trying to contain myself, I paced and snarled at the ground,

"We just want everything to work," Keran pleaded. "We want the Circle to work, we want the templar to do right by their creed."

_You promised yourself you wouldn't let him out of your sight._

"_What do you think I've been fighting for_?" I screeched; Anders and Aveline grabbed my arms, holding me from slapping him again. "Fucking idiots!" Fuming, I sent him one last warning: "If I find you anywhere near them when I crash this little fucking parade, I'll kill you." I left Keran there, unable to deal with him any longer.

_Fenris._

We set out to the Wounded Coast; Aveline, Isabela, Anders and I. I wasn't sure what we would find, but I was highly certain that I would have to kill too many fucking people to get my point across.

_Please be all right._

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><p><strong>Which has been your favorite chapter so far?<strong>


	19. Completely Confusing

**Most of us don't document the story by chapters, but one person named **_**my**_** favorite! **_**Broody Babies**_** was too much fun to write for me **_**not**_** to like it.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Nineteen: Completely Confusing (Alternatively: Barely Batshit)<strong>

_"Oh, no there ain't no rest for the wicked_

_Until we close our eyes for good."_

_-Cage the Elephant, "Ain't no Rest for the Wicked"_

* * *

><p>We ran to the Wounded Coast, never stopping. I suspected the others knew I wouldn't have stopped.<p>

The day was turning out to be quite shitty, if you asked me. I had planned a long day at Sundermount, but running to the Coast? When did everything become so complicated?

I flew across the sand and rock, the familiar roads easily traveled. The only thing I stopped running for was Varric and Merrill's approach; even then, I only slowed to a fast walk.

"What happened?" I demanded shortly as they fell into step beside me. Varric had to trot to keep up with my long strides.

"Broody went outside to wait, just in case you returned," Varric explained, short of breath. "We didn't see a thing until they had already caught him. We were still in your house, grabbing extra provisions."

"They had an entire army!" Merrill whispered. "I could barely count them all!"

I growled and picked up the pace.

"We followed them here," Varric continued. "They're just up ahead. I knew you would come."

"I'm going to slaughter them," I declared angrily.

"Now, Hawke." I automatically ignored his "reasoning" voice. I was pissed. I wanted to _stay_ pissed.

"Perhaps discretion is the best course of action," Anders offered, sounding paranoid.

I halted my movements and turned so I faced all of them.

"I am an angry, angry woman," I said first, trying to reign in my temper. "None of you will be able to stop me from walking in there and raising hell." I eyed all of them in turn. "Now, if you don't want to walk into this fight with me, I won't hold it against you." I inhaled and turned around. "Leave now, if you must."

I stalked into their camp, putting all of their guards on edge. The leaders watched me with cool eyes as I passed before them, even recognizing them.

Fenris was on the ground, passed out cold, behind them.

"All right, you fuckers," I growled. "Who do I have to kill for taking one of my people?"

"Why do you side with Meredith?" asked a templar, stepping before me. I rolled my eyes.

"How many times do I have to repeat myself?" I glared at them. "I side with no one; I am my own woman. You fuck with me, I fuck back." I drew my swords. "Unfortunately for you, you've fucked with me. I will show no mercy, should this end in bloodshed."

I was rearing for a fight; one move, and they would lose their lives. I knew this templar - Thrask, perhaps?

"I deeply apologize for the grief and distress we've caused you and your friends," the templar-maybe-Thrask said. "Let the hostage go."

Damn right, let the hostage go.

"No," said a mage to his left. She had familiar looking tattoos crawling up her face - this was a bloodmage I had spared. I remembered her, at least, if not her name. "Kill the elf. Then the Champion."

"Grace, we will not kill an innocent to achieve our ends," Maybe-Thrask said, "it gains us nothing to become Meredith."

"Meredith!" Grace spat. "What do I care for Meredith? I'm here for the Champion!"

"Put this on record," I said, brandishing my swords. "_She_ started it; therefore if I kill her, it's justified."

"Kill the hostage!" Grace yelled, and my heart began to pound with anticipation. If anyone so much as took a _step_...

A dark-skinned mage boy behind her hesitated. "Grace, I'm not sure..."

"No one has to die here," Thrask said.

Grace used blood magic to kill Thrask, and that was my cue.

We decimated them, though their numbers were great. We had experience over them; we had better armor, better training, and group trust on our sides. I immediately went to Fenris and stood over him, protecting him from harm. Grace flung spell after spell at me, but Merrill and Anders stood watchful, protecting and retaliating as called for.

We wittled them down; Aveline barked orders, Varric shot the archers in the necks, Isabela lurked and stabbed, I defended. We were a team. We worked. We conquered.

I was still pissed.

There was one left; the dark-skinned mage that was ordered to kill Fenris.

"Please, I don't wish to die," he said, holding up his hands. I raised an eyebrow at him, and he stuttered. "I-I wasn't going to kill him! G-Grace, she was mad! She had been brainwashed by blood magic, but I...I _hate_ blood magic."

I looked to Varric and shrugged. "What's one mage?" I asked the him. "If I don't see you in the Gallows by next week, I _will_ find you," I threatened.

He nodded, sputtering. I knelt beside Fenris.

"Can you wake him?" I asked, touching his hair. He was breathing steadily, and didn't appear to have any lasting damage. _Thank the Maker._

"Grace used blood magic to hold him," the boy explained. "It'll take blood magic to awaken him."

"Then do it," I said, standing.

The boy stood over Fenris and pulled out a blade, slashing his own wrist over him. Fenris immediately came to, sitting up and blinking, bleary-eyed.

"I shouldn't have let them take me," Fenris said apologetically, words leaving his mouth the first moment he saw me. "I let you down."

"Whatever," I said, overcome with relief and a backdraft of emotion. I didn't realize how distressed I had been about his capture until he was safe again; I jumped forward, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Just...don't do it again, okay?" I hugged him close, crushing him to me until he wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Women," Varric huffed. "All batshit."

"That's just the magic side-effects," Isabela inserted, and my group laughed at my expense. Even I had to choke out a short giggle at her joke.

"She was royally pissed about two minutes ago," Aveline said. "I've never seen someone do an emotional one-eighty like that."

"The day is still young, Hawke," Anders said.

"Sundermount," I said, nodding at the great mountain. "We need to find the Dalish."

"Oh, dear," Merrill fretted. "I should probably make myself scarce, then, shouldn't I? Perhaps go look at some nice flowers, maybe frolic through the trees..."

"Come on, Daisy," Varric said, grabbing her hand. "I'll hold your hand the entire way."

"Oh, you're a dear, Varric." Merrill beamed and they started walking. "Though, as short as you are, I'm not sure how you'll stop the Keeper from scowling at me. She has a horrible scowl."

"I'll stand in front of you," Fenris offered, releasing me. He took me by the hand as well, leading me onward. "So she can't see you."

"You two are the best!" she declared. "I shan't fear a single creature, with you two around. Varric to protect me from the low things, and Fenris to protect me from the high things!"

"That's stereotyping," Varric said, pretending to be offended.

"You're short, Varric," I said dryly. "That's why we have stereotypes: they're _true_."

"For instance, Hawke is a stereotypical woman," Aveline suggested. "Emotional, cranky, with a fierce temper."

"And Aveline is a stereotypical ginger," Isabela provided. "She has no soul."

"Isabela isn't a stereotypical pirate, though," Merrill mused, staring at the sky. "She doesn't have a peg leg. Or an eye patch. Or a parrot, for that matter."

"If you think about it, she's more likely to be a stereotypical whore than a pirate," Anders said. "After all, she doesn't wear pants."

"I don't even say 'argh'."

* * *

><p>"My feet hurt," Isabela complained as we climbed to the Dalish camp. Fenris kept glancing over steep drops and sudden cliffs, wary of the height.<p>

Some things never change.

"If you didn't wear those ridiculous boots, maybe your feet wouldn't hurt," I shot back.

"But then my butt would hang. Do you want my butt to hang?"

I sighed, refusing to answer that question. "I say half goes with Merrill and the other half goes to find that assassin."

Merrill grabbed my hand. "I'm on Hawke's team."

I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Okay, Merrill is on my team. Aveline, will you lead the other team?"

"Will do, Hawke." She shoved Fenris in my direction, and he smirked at her, stepping into place at my side. All in all, we split as evenly as possible; Aveline's team had one extra, but I figured we were pretty even. Who knew how strong the assassin was? If worse came to worst, I would only have to kill Merrill.

I shot a sad look at her and wrapped my arm around her neck. I vowed to myself that I wouldn't be killing her; I would make sure that everything went according to plan.

Of course, nothing ever goes according to the plan.

The statue was huge, but the room was open and airy. I recognized immediately the telling Dalish architecture; it was a room filled with a natural touch, and the overgrown canopy cast lazy, green lights on the dusty floor.

It wasn't such a bad place to be in; or, it wouldn't be, had there not been a trapped demon placed as a main fixture. Whoever planned _that_ decorating detail needed to be fired.

According to Merrill, though, the demon was gone.

That was the first sign that something was wrong. A demon that had been trapped by Dalish magic for many, many years suddenly disappeared?

The second sign came when the decrepit Keeper stumbled into the cave saying that there was a demon inside of her.

* * *

><p>"No shit," Varric said, swirling his drink around in the bottle. The bar patrons leaned in, eyes wide.<p>

I sighed and kicked my feet up onto the table. It had been a long, long day.

Varric continued, "The old elf declared that if we killed her, the demon would die."

"You did it, right?" asked Norah, the bar wench. She was neglecting her duties to hear the tale, but nobody cared; the only person drinking regularly was Varric, and that was only for the pausing effect.

"I didn't," he clarified, eyes wandering to me. "The Champion, though, was very crafty in how she defeated the demon. And _damn_, was that thing enormous! I bet he was the size of the Chantry - no, _twice_ the size of the Chantry!"

Okay, that was stretching it. The abomination had been about a fifth of the size of the room, at most. I had to leave. I made eye contact with Fenris and nodded to the door; I stood and left, planning to wait outside for him.

I wasn't alone, though; when I walked outside, Merrill leaned against the wall, staring up into space.

She didn't notice me; I tapped her arm and she jumped, smiling half-heartedly. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Are you okay?" I asked, rubbing her arm.

Merrill nodded and looked down. "I _will_ be. Hawke, for what it's worth..." She grimaced.

I shook my head and smiled. "Don't think about it, Merrill. Marethari did what she did to protect you."

"She shouldn't have. I could have handled it, I could have-" She sighed and shook her head. "Maker, I should have been the one to be killed."

"I'm glad it wasn't you," I said honestly, kissing her cheek. "Marethari loved you like we love you, Merrill; she sacrificed herself so you wouldn't have to pay the price for your blood magic." I inhaled heavily and stared up at the heavens, docile and twinkling in the night sky. "It's what I would have done. Protected you, I mean." I looked back at her. "Regardless of what happened, I wasn't prepared to kill you. This outcome...was for the best."

She nodded and hugged me. "Thank you, Hawke. I don't know where I'd be without you."

A hand touched my waist, and I pulled away from her to face Fenris. "I'm tired," I said, taking his hand in mine. "Tomorrow, I think, I'll try to find this Zevran Aranai for myself."

Fenris sighed. "I would like to know how Varric found out what happened in that cave. He wasn't even _there_."

I chuckled. "Varric likes to embellish, anyhow. You shouldn't listen to a word he says."

Fenris smiled and pulled me into the street; the sun had set on our walk back to the city, and the night was warm and inviting. "He always speaks wonderful things about you, Marian."

"That's only because it would seem narcissistic to say them about himself."

Fenris shook his head, ruminating. "I don't think so," he said, pulling me close. "You're an extraordinary woman; if only half the things he says about you are true, there can be no one else like you."

My stupid smile must have split my blushing face in two; I yanked Fenris down for an impromptu kiss, grinning through it.

"Thank you," I said afterwards, licking my lips.

"You're welcome," he said graciously, sounding slightly confused but happy. I nearly kissed him again; whatever god created him to be so adorable did a beautiful service for men and women everywhere.

I laughed and looked up at the sky; I was sore, and tired, and it had been an awful day, but I was..._happy_. Happy to have Fenris at my side, happy he as at peace.

"Maybe it's better like this," I said softly, smiling at the stars.

"Like what?" he asked, squeezing my hand in his.

"With your memories gone," I clarified. "You...Fenris, you used to have so much _hate_ in you." I turned to look up at his thoughtful green eyes. "Now that I've had you like this, so carefree and loving, I don't know...I don't know if getting your memories back is the right thing to want."

He was silent, so I kept going. "The memories you had of Danarius, of being a slave..." I remembered him telling me of the fog warriors, how he was ordered to murder them. How his memories haunted him, even when he was with me. "They ruined you, Fenris. I loved you, but you were a broken man." I pulled his hand up, my lips grazing his knuckles. "I feel like you're happier without all of that baggage weighing you down."

"If what you say is true, then I suppose it's a good thing my memories were erased," he said, the corner of his mouth breaking into a smile. "Although I would enjoy any memory that involved you."

"There are too few of those, I'm afraid," I confessed as we continued down the street. "You-"

I was interrupted by a loud, thundering explosion that shook the streets. I gasped and whirled around, only to flinch back as the blinding light washed everything away.

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><p><strong>Who did you romance first?<strong>

**Also: Somehow, somewhere...a prince from Starkhaven is screaming: "MAKER NOOOOOO!"**


	20. Forced Fools

**Whoa! I don't know why this entire chapter was/is in bold! I'll try and fix it so you guys won't spazz out while trying to read! SHEESH!**

**The general theme is that we romanced Anders first, but then we discovered Fenris. Or we romanced Anders until we realized he was a whiny bitch, then suddenly we found out that Fenris is **_**hot**_** and **_**brooding**_** and **_**UNF**_**and-**

**I thought he hated me until I found out about rivalmance. Ah, rivalmance!**

**Anyhoo.**

**Last chapter****.**

**Now that I've got your attention, I want to thank everyone who read this story all the way through. Or partly through. See you at the epi!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty: Forced Fools<strong>

_Only the strongest will survive,_  
><em>Lead me to heaven when we die.<em>  
><em>I am the shadow on the wall,<em>  
><em>I'll be the one to save us all.<em>

_Breaking Benjamine (ft. Valora)_

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><p>"<em>Marian<em>!" I heard Fenris cry. The ground was cool beneath my back - when had I fallen? "Marian, get up!"

Hands pulled at me, shook me. My ears rang, a buzzing bell that wouldn't dissipate. "What?" I asked dazedly, my eyes blinking open. Why couldn't I see?

"Marian," I heard Fenris say, though he was on the other side of the tunnel. "Stand up. We have to move - they're calling for you." He sounded less crazed, but still nowhere near calm. "Something happened to the Chantry we visited this morning. It - it's _gone_."

I inhaled. _Chantry._ "Anders," I said, horrified. "_No_. He couldn't. He _wouldn't_."

_But he would_. I rolled onto my stomach, tried to stand on shaking limbs. I still couldn't see, but it faded in, a slow, seeping pressure that brought with it fragments of my eyesight.

"Lead me there," I said, grasping onto Fenris's arm. He pulled me down the street, and I tripped over my own feet the entire way. The scent of acrid ash and smoke came closer, reminding me of a tunnel, yanking a distraught Fenris behind me as we ran for the outside. My ears stopped ringing and I could hear screaming, shouting, desperate attempts to clear out survivors.

And then I could see.

Smoke billowed up into the sky, a gruesome plot of naked land on the ground. I couldn't tell, not from where we stood, if anything was left of the grand building.

"Oh, Anders," I whispered, hating that I had allowed this, had been a part of this.

_I trusted him_.

"-_Right of Annulment!_" I heard the Knight-Commander yell above the din. The crowd grew quiet as Fenris and I ran onto the scene. "Every mage is to be executed - _immediately!_"

"The Circle didn't do this," I spat, running on my own until I stood between Meredith and Orsino. "One man did." My eyes slid over the crowd until they rested on one mage, no - one _abomination_.

"And I'd do it again," Anders said, striding forward. "I couldn't risk compromise because there _is_no compromise. Not in this situation."

"This outrage will _not_be tolerated!" Meredith shouted.

"Don't let her do this," Orsino begged me. "It is not the fault of all mages - only one!"

I turned to Fenris, stared up at the forests of his eyes. I knew what he would want me to choose, had things been different.

I also knew that, had things been different, I still would have chosen the same.

If only I could leave and be done with them all. If only I hadn't chosen _this_city when we fled.

If only I had _done something to stop this_.

If. If. If. Maybe the Arishok would never have killed the Viscount. Maybe Meredith wouldn't have resorted to extremes in relation to her job. Maybe Anders wouldn't have done what he did. Maybe there would be no war.

But now there was.

"We must help the Knight-Commander," Aveline said desperately.

"No, Aveline," Merrill interjected. "This was at no fault of the mages! You can't possibly slaughter innocent people...can you?" Her brow furrowed as she looked to Aveline.

"Choose," Anders pressed, boring holes into me. I didn't like it. He had no right to look at me that way. "There is no stopping it."

I could leave. I could walk away, let them kill each other. I could take Fenris at my side and we could run - for Ferelden, Starkhaven, Orlais, it didn't matter anymore. Anywhere but Kirkwall. I grew tired of being the one people ran to when there was a crisis, or a problem, or a _choice_ that they were too frightened to stand up to themselves.

"_Murderer_," I spat at him. "I trusted you, and you murdered innocent people - and for what? Power? Madness? _Justice?_" I threw a hand out, signifying the spot where the Chantry building once stood. "_Justice_ does not murder innocents!"

"Maker, I know," Anders said, looking grieved. "It _had_ to be done - but please, Hawke. _Please_don't allow more innocents to die."

They were all innocent, despite what Anders thought. Templar. Mages. The templar were people, too. They had families, friends, possibly children. Who _wouldn't_lose in this situation?

Everyone. Everyone would lose.

"Don't kill them," Merrill whispered, inching closer in order to take my hand. "Their only crime was being born, Hawke."

"I know," I said on an exhale, closing my eyes. My other hand raised to my temple. "Is there really no middle ground to be sought out?"

"Even if I wanted to, I could not stay my blade," Meredith said, sounding weary. Ash fell on my cheek. I nodded.

"I understand," I whispered, smudging the black dust across my cheek. "And I can't let this slaughter happen." I looked Meredith in the eye. "I have no qualms with the templar, nor the mages," I said slowly. "But I can't convince myself that mass murder is the right path."

"Hawke," Aveline pleaded. "This - I don't know if I -"

I held up a hand. "I'm not asking you to follow me," I said to her. "I'm doing what I think is best. I encourage all of you to do the same."

It would kill me to aim my blades at a companion. They had to know that I wouldn't fight them, and I knew - if Fenris was close at hand - that he would not hesitate to kill one of them for me, which would ache even more.

"This is a bad fight, Hawke," Varric said. "I don't know if I'll be telling the story of the Champion's glorious triumph over the templar later on."

I shook my head. "I wouldn't want you to."

"_Thank the Maker,_" Orsino said, gathering his shock.

"You are a fool, Champion," Meredith said, glaring at me with chilled eyes. "_Kill them all!_" she shouted.

"The Gallows! Run!" Orsino commanded; the group of mages watching the standoff abruptly burst into simultaneous action, and my group followed, all of them counted for behind me.

I could only wish I wasn't leading them into certain defeat.

-o-

"There's nothing you can say that I haven't already said to myself," Anders said, staring sadly at the ground.

"You should pay for what you've done," I said, watching his back, my chest feeling heavy. My companions stood about, regarding the scene with warines. "You've started a massacre, Anders. Do you have any idea what the backlash will be for these people?"

"I do," he whispered. "I know."

"I wanted peace," I growled at him. "Are you going to kill _me_, too?"

"_No_," he gasped, back jerking. "I wouldn't - you couldn't possibly think -"

I couldn't kill him. He was one of mine. He helped me, he helped _Fenris_. Once, maybe before I met the elf that changed my life, there might have been something between him and me, something that didn't exist for us anymore.

But something had to be done.

I inhaled, crossing my arms. "I won't kill you, Anders. You won't die, but..." I closed my eyes, pinched the bridge of my nose. "You sit your ass right there until someone picks you up. I can't find it in myself to give a damn, not anymore." I turned on my heel. "Let's go."

"But...if someone finds him," Merrill started, sounding small.

"Then someone kills him," I said, voice indifferent. I looked back to Anders, and then ran up to him and punched him square in the jaw. My knuckle swelled.

"Let's go."

-o-

There were no words to be said. We wrecked a path through the Gallows, and I killed every templar we saw.

The most heartbreaking thing was that I _recognized_ them - all from my visits to the Gallows, my dealings on the Coast. They weren't just faces. They had names, and hopes, and dreams, and _damn you Anders for forcing this_. I knew it was just their job, their duty, what they were trained for. It wasn't _their _faults.

Fenris and I stayed close; I had his back, he had mine. We moved, ducking, slicing, leaping, as one. His blade, my knives. I only knew that I couldn't falter, couldn't fall until it was done. Mages fell. Orsino became outraged; he wanted to prove Meredith right, justified the use of blood magic to himself.

It figured. If Fenris had his right mind, he would have sneered at me.

_You see, now, what they are capable of? They all justify falling into blood magic._

He would be right. But there was no sneer, only grim determination as we attacked Orsino - no, it wasn't Orsino. It was a monster, an abomination that he had turned himself into by using the bodies of the dead mages.

It was a hard fight, but we pressured on, spurred by the need to see the night through alive. Meredith wouldn't kill Merrill, wouldn't kill Anders.

_Father, I hope you're proud. I'm not._

-o-

"Here we are," Meredith said as we finally approached. "At long last."

I grimaced, staring at her. I didn't want to kill her any more than I had wanted to kill Orsino, Anders...

"I have only performed my duty," she said, eyes hard, something lurking inside of them. "What happens to you now is your own fault. Since you stood by the mages, you will be punished as they are."

"Knight-Commander," Cullen said, stepping forward. "I thought we were only to _arrest_ the Champion, not-"

"You will do as commanded," Meredith yelled at him.

"I stood by," Cullen said, voice hard. "I stood by when Thrask began whispering that you were mad, but now...this goes too far, Knight-Commander."

"Insubordination will _not_be tolerated!" Meredith cried, drawing her sword. I narrowed my eyes when I recognized the harsh light glowing from within it.

"Andraste's dimpled buttcheeks," Varric muttered.

"Kill her! I want this traitor dead!" Meredith ordered, pointing her sword at my face. I felt Fenris bristle next to me and hoped he wouldn't move.

"Stand down!" Cullen demanded, voice like steel. "I relieve you of your command, Knight-Commander Meredith."

"Blood magic," Meredith spat. "My own Captain has fallen blind to it, as well. You're all _weak_!" she shouted. "I don't need _any of you fools!_ I will protect this city _myself!_"

"What use is a city if no one is alive to live in it?" I asked. She didn't acknowledge me.

Meredith was a stubborn opponent; even with all of our numbers converged upon her, we had difficulty. She drew on bottomless power, the sword giving her strength and madness.

No, not bottomless: Bartrand had kept a sliver of the idol for himself. Still, I kept a close watch on my friends as we fought the woman and all of her devices; I was sliced, and bruised, and knocked on my ass, but persevered.

"You're the Champion?" came an accented, breathy voice. I turned to see a blonde elf weilding two daggers inch over to fight beside me.

"And you?" I asked, not bothering to confirm his suspicions.

"Zevran Aranai," he said, mouth hinting at a smirk. "I believe I met some of your...friends this evening."

"Nice to meet you," I greeted with a sardonic laugh, leaping back into the fray. "If you'll excuse me, I'm a little preoccupied."

We worked in tandem; even some of the templar lent their blades to our cause, seeing that their commander had been driven mad.

It was grueling, having to take hits from her and whatever she called to her side. At one point, I received a slice across my back, and I saw Fenris take a knee to the face once or twice. I couldn't count the number of times we had been thrown across the ground or kicked by her; she _refused_to go down no matter how many times we hit her.

I knew that at some point, my limbs would refuse to carry me. Somewhere, at the back of my mind, I knew that I had woken up _too_ early, had caused _too_much trouble throughout the day, and I would collapse at some point in the near future.

Only, it wasn't too soon. Meredith fell before I did; the entire life was sucked out of her by the idol, leaving nothing but a stone corpse in the wake of pure lyrium.

So that was what six years of possession looked like...

There was a tense moment; my battered, bleeding group hung in the balance as the templar converged around us. I backed up to Fenris, feeling a trickle of hot, wet, _sticky_ trailing down my back as I did so. My eyes met Cullen's; looking for reassurance, for assistance, _anything_.

There was nothing. No reassurance that my companions would live, yet neither was there a challenge. I prepared to battle against the templar - after all, why start it if I didn't finish it? The Circle was decimated, the templar shaken; what right did any of them have over this city?

And then I realized...

I didn't care.

They could rip each other to shreds, for all I cared. Templar, mages...at the end of the day, they were all people.

And I was tired of it. Tired of _all_ of it; of this city, of its politics, of the petty crime, of the headaches.

Most of all, I was tired of _standing_. I felt exhaustion beneath every inch of my skin, mocking me, twisting my perceptions until everything was too bright, and everyone had a antagonistic agenda.

So I left.

-o-

I didn't get far before I heard footsteps on my heels. I didn't turn around.

He didn't touch me; I didn't touch him. We walked in silence, our breaths the only sounds permitted in the night air. I couldn't fathom what they were doing in the Gallows, and I didn't want to know. I didn't want to have anything to do with them.

My door was unlocked, so we entered. I didn't know if my back needed healing or not - besides, there was no one to heal it for me. No one I could trust.

I felt heavy and sad; I collapsed on the stairs, not trusting my legs to carry me any further.

Fenris helped me; our armor chafed, but he carried me all the way up the stairs. He shook with the effort, his own body exhausted beyond measure, but he made it, me in hand. We ended up on the bed, and he helped me undress. I couldn't feel my arms.

His skin touched mine; his fingers crossed my back, and apparently I wasn't bleeding anymore, because he let me roll onto it. He fell on top of me with a sigh.

"I love you," he murmured against my skin. I moaned in reply, clutching onto his back, beyond words. He lips skimmed across my breasts, closing around on a nipple, and I arched, my fingers digging into the skin of his back.

"_Y-yes,_" I stuttered when his fingers touched the warmth of my sex, coaxing out the moisture. "_Fenris_."

Were we doing this _now_? After everything we had gone through?

A finger slipped into my channel, making me buck against him. Fuck, who _cared_?

I felt dizzy; he pushed another one inside me, and I clamped down on it, whimpering. Too much. Too much, too much. My head spun, but he didn't give up; he gently separated my legs, opening me to him. His thumb played with my bud and I cried out, everything too _intense_ to be normal.

Was I dying?

_No_, I thought, and gasped when I felt Fenris press himself against me. His head rubbed across my wetness, coating himself, preparing. I whimpered and my hips lurched forward, seeking more contact, more friction, more _Fenris._

"Are you ready?" he asked into my ear, voice uneven. He still played between my lips, his tip dragging back and forth, back and forth...

"_Nghn_," I cried in confirmation. He understood, and pressed inward. We both shuddered at the increasing contact as he seated himself deep within me, pushing further. When his hips met the inside of my thighs, he stopped, panting.

"_Marian_," he grunted my name before pulling back. My chest heaved as he dragged out every last second of our pleasure, agonizing and glorious. His tip was the last thing held within me, and he pressed inside me again, still keeping the slow, frustrating pace.

If Meredith and Orsino didn't kill me, _this_ surely would. I craved his touch, wanted him faster, _needed more of him_.

"Fenris," I groaned, holding his chest to mine. "Please."

"I.._I can't_," he choked into my neck.

"You _can_," I insisted, feeling my throat close up. Please, dear Maker, _more_. "_Please._"

He groaned and gave in, and suddenly the rhythm picked up the pace; he thrust in even, long strokes, holding me, loving me, kissing my neck; I grabbed his hands and held them in mine, reveling in this new, intimate contact.

It had never been like this. Never like _this_; close, and warm, and _loving_. His eyes shown down at me, brow furrowed, face tense, and I felt my hips buck involuntarily.

"_Oh_," I moaned, feeling my pleasure begin to crest. "Oh, _Fenris_."

"Marian," he returned, sighing into my shoulder.

"Fenris, _come_ _with me_," I insisted, my thoughts shattered as my slow mounting orgasm washed over every inch of me, shaking my hollow limbs until all I could feel was Fenris inside of me, twitching, spilling himself and crying out into my neck.

"Fenris," I whispered, one of my hands leaving his hand to caress his hair. "I love you."

He inhaled; the last thing I was aware of before I lost consciousness was him gently removing himself from my body and sitting on the bed beside me. My hand remained clutched to his, irremovable.

-o-

_Not long enough_, I protested in my head when something jostled me awake. _More sleep._

I felt myself being moved; rolled over. My cheek pressed into the bedsheets, and I slowly regained control of my mind. "Wha-"

All thoughts evaporated when Fenris shoved himself inside of me. I gasped, back arching, the contact burning blissfully. "Fenris," I grunted, brain still not catching up with my body.

"Do you want this?" He gritted his teeth; I heard the scraping sound as he pounded into me from behind.

I didn't know what to say; on the one hand, it felt pretty amazing, but on the other hand...I couldn't see his face. I couldn't savor the contact - and most importantly, I lost precious sleep just to get fucked from behind.

_Even trade? That remains to be seen._

"Fenris?" I asked. All of the adrenaline from yesterday must have finally gotten to him; I should have expected this. He was losing it, and I was currently in a...position that wouldn't allow me to help him.

His hand touched my back, drifting across the wound I knew was there. Fenris didn't respond with anything other than the slapping of his skin against mine. His hand left my back to clench the swell of my ass, fingers digging into me. I cried out at the sensation.

"_Fenris_!"

He kept grunting and groaning behind me, and I felt my body tense with his; after he spurted inside of me and cried out to the Maker, I pushed away from him only to grab his shoulders and pull him down on top of me.

"Are you okay?" I asked as we rolled to our sides. I ran my fingers through his hair, a habit I couldn't shake. It was just so _soft_.

"No," he replied, eyes lost. I pulled him close, hugging him to me.

"We did too much yesterday," I said, kissing his forehead. "I understand. You're in shock."

"Shock," Fenris repeated. "Shock."

"It's okay," I soothed. "It'll go away. Just stay calm, all right?" I rested my eyes, my arms around my Fenris, and sleep dragged me under once more.

-o-

When I awoke again, it was because my body was ready. I inhaled fresh smoke from the fireplace and smiled, stretching and ignoring the sore spot between my legs.

The first thing I noticed, beyond the fireplace, was that Fenris wasn't beside me. Bleary-eyed, I glanced around the room, curious. He stood close to the mantle, forehead pressed against the gray stone.

"Did you sleep?" I asked, worried. Fenris didn't reply; his emerald eyes were trained on the fire. I stood, a feeling of trepidation settling in my chest. "Fenris?"

I reached out, touched his shoulder. He turned to stare at my pale fingers as I caressed his bare skin. "Still in shock, are you?"

"You could say that," he said, voice rough. He cleared his throat, moved out of my grasp. "I need..." he started, eyes still not meeting mine.

I knew what was coming; I should have foreseen it. It was _exactly_like last time. Even if this Fenris didn't have the memories that he should, he would still act the same. I sighed, preparing myself for the inevitable. It was the pain; it was always the pain. Maker, how could I have made the same mistake twice?

"I need to go."

I nodded and sighed again as he began collecting his clothes.

-o-

It was a slow day.

I refused Orana's offer to make me a late lunch; instead, I gave her the day off and munched on a sandwich in my robe. Several people knocked on my door, but I told Bodahn that only one was allowed to enter.

I sat in my dining room, at the very end of the oversized table, far after my sandwich had disappeared. I knew what I wanted to do; I knew _exactly_ what my next move would be, but I wouldn't do it alone. I_ needed_Fenris with me.

Waiting, always waiting for his return. I knew he would, eventually. Once his body returned to normal and his mind stopped turning so much, he would come back, and I would be grateful.

Even still, the hours in between the moment he left and the moment he would return seemed bleak and superfluous.

He _would _come.

I moved from the table to the stairs, unable to stop myself from gazing at my door. Bodahn made Sandal sit quietly in my study so as to not disturb me, but I wouldn't have minded. My afternoon was spent staring wistfully at my door, hoping Fenris would walk in, smile, and say,

_"Marian, I'm sorry."_

No. No, that wasn't good enough.

"_I love you, Marian. Let's go away together._"

_"Marian, I'm an ass. Please run away with me."_

_"What are you looking at, Marian? Let's get out of here."_

_"Marian, I know I used to be a selfish prick, so I decided it was time to start acting like it..."_

_"Marian..."_

_"Marian..."_

I shook my head, annoyed with all of my thoughts. He wouldn't have to say anything.

Now, though, I had a stream of "_Marians_" running through my mind, and it drove me mad. I decided to leave the stairs.

My feet carried me to my bedchambers again, so I sat at the foot of my bed and sighed at the door.

The longer the day dragged on, the less I remembered of the event. Was he _really_ in shock, or was this just an excuse to be rid of me? I didn't know. I tried to decipher the meaning of his words, broke down every facial expression he had sent my way, and _still_couldn't figure it out.

There was a wine bottle underneath my bed. How had that gotten there? I couldn't remember, but I was infinitely grateful for it. I uncorked it and drank a mouthful, practically inhaling half of the bottle. My head buzzed, but it still wasn't enough to forget that he had left.

_Maybe if I pretend he's down stairs..._

But I didn't need to.

Because he stood at my door, watching me glare at the bottle of wine in my hands.

It must have been raining outside; he was drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead in a whimsical fashion. My hand twitched, the ghost of a movement that intended to sweep them from his face.

He parted his lips, and I prepared myself for whatever would spill from them. His green eyes met mine, steady, heavy.

"_Hawke_," Fenris whispered, voice rough, and my breath caught in my throat.


	21. Epilogue

_And if it pleases you to leave me,  
>Just <em>go_.  
>Stopping you would stifle<br>Your enchanting ghost._

_-Sufjan Stevens, "Enchanting Ghost"_

* * *

><p>My mouth went dry as I stood, brain foggy from the few gulps of wine I had taken.<p>

_Hawke._

_He called me 'Hawke'._

_Maker, _no_._

I thought of the thousands of things I could have said to made this moment easier; if only I had _told_him, if I had softened the blow...

But I hadn't, and yet again I was reaping the consequences.

I held up a hand to stop him from moving forward. "It isn't what you think, Fenris."

"It doesn't matter what I think," he said, stepping forward. I stepped back, hand still raised, mirroring his movement.

"Fenris, don't," I warned, feeling the wall at my back. I braced myself against it, my head hitting tapestry. _Please be a wine-induced dream._

"Don't what?" he sneered, hands fisted. I crouched down as Fenris stood over me, head inches from mine, lips raised in a snarl. "Don't blame you?"

"Don't _hit _me," I clarified, glaring up at him. "I can explain everything."

He snorted, slamming his hands to the wall on either side of my head. "I don't need you to." He leaned his mouth beside my ear. "You _sold_ me, _Marian_," he spat.

I couldn't tell you who threw the first punch - all I knew was when his lips curled around my name, we both sprung into action.

A hand clamped around my arm and I kneed him in the gut, running past him as he doubled over. Adrenaline flowed throughout my muscles, my heart pounding in my chest as I ran out of my bedroom door, trying to escape him.

I gasped when his hand clamped around my robe; I spotted the glow of his tattoos swim across the floor as he threw me against the wall again, my head splitting across the cement. I growled and lashed out, landing a punch against his jaw and scrambling out the window. The bars on my windows were thin; I wiggled through the sliver of a gap between the bar and the sill, and he caught my leg, causing me to faceplant onto my wet balcony.

_Ow_.

"Come back!" Fenris shouted as I kicked him off of me, tearing the back of my robe from hip to shoulder with the jolting movement. I wiped blood from my chin as I quickly perched on the balcony wall, glaring at Fenris, rain pouring over my head and dripping from my hair. I spat the offending liquid away from my lips and blinked the streams from my eyes.

"No!" I yelled as thunder cracked somewhere behind me.

"Hawke, don't make me come out there," he warned, hands grabbing at the bars. I shook my head, trying to catch my breath, shivering in my ripped robe.

"You're trying to _kill _me!" I panted, rubbing the sore spot on my head. "Fenris, I didn't sell you into slavery!"

"Bullshit!" he snarled, kicking the bars. The cement cracked, dust trickling from where the bars were lodged.

"_Think_ about it, _Fen Fen_," I teased angrily. "I was in _love _with you!"

He shook his head and kicked the bars again. "Irrelevant!"

"_Fuck irrelevant!_" I screamed, hearing my crude words echo around me. My neighbors were going to complain, I was certain, if they could hear me over the roar of the rain. "I would have never done it if I had known what he would do to you!"

"What did you _think _he would do, Hawke?" Fenris yelled, stomping at the bars again. They moved infinitesimally, and I crawled onto the ledge of my balcony, prepared to leap onto the next house should he come at me again. "Bake me a cake and welcome me home?"

"_I didn't know!_" I was close to pulling my sopping hair out. "All I knew was that we would have _died_ if we tried to fight! I thought that, _maybe_, being a slave for a few hours would be better than _dying_!"

"You were wrong!" he roared, pushing at the bars again. They gave way, iron clanging to the floor, and I scrambled to my feet, wobbling on the slippery ledge. I judged the distance between my balcony and the neighbors' balcony, but didn't get a chance to jump before his arms clamped around my legs, dragging me to the floor with him.

I punched him in the chest. "Let me _go_!" I demanded, trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

"No!" he said, hands finding a stronger hold around my legs. "Not until I'm finished talking!"

"We aren't _talking_." I cried out as he bit my hip, teeth digging into my skin. "This is called _fighting_."

We struggled against each other, me trying to leave, him trying to keep me in place; we scraped across the floor, panting, biting, punching, kicking, until we ran out of breath. He collapsed on top of me - when did we reverse positions? - and I felt his heart pound against the skin of my stomach - my torn robe gone. He bit my nipple and I gasped, yanking his hair by the roots.

His hands grasped my hips and his tongue flicked against my skin, a searing lick of heat in the frigid downpour; I grabbed his shoulders, trying to push him off me, and his spiky armor stabbed my palm.

"Get _off _me!" I yelped, kicking at him. He ignored my protests and shed his gauntlets.

"You love me?" he challenged, sliding up my body to push my shoulders against the ground. "_Prove _it to me."

I glared at him. "What part of my actions _hasn't_ proved I love you?" He let me push him over, only for me to straddle his waist, my hands slamming his torso against the ground. He hissed a breath through his teeth, jaw clenching. "I tried so _fucking_ hard," I growled, ripping his chest plate off. I tore buckles, and I didn't give a _damn_. "To make you comfortable." I snatched his jerkin from his skin, splitting it open. "I _saved_ your ass, I _protected_ your ass, I _loved _your ass."

I glanced down to glare into his eyes only to find him raising an eyebrow.

In a pause lasting five heartbeats, I realized what I had said.

_I loved your ass._

Sputtering into a random fit of giggles, I rocked back onto his stomach, my face reddening from lack of air as the laughter persisted. Fenris tipped me over, rolling on top of me and kicking off his leggings, settling himself between my legs. His skin warmed against mine as my continued heaving created friction.

"I didn't -" I snorted, interrupting my speech. "I didn't mean it that way."

"I know," he said, rolling his eyes at me. His hands dipped down to touch me, rolling my clit beneath his thumb.

"I - I meant -" I burst into laughter again, tears leaking out of the corner of my eyes. "Your _ass_!" I giggled uncontrollably, my hands covering my mouth in a futile attempt to stifle the sound as rain patted on my naked skin. "I meant that I loved _you_, not your-"

I gasped, the sound morphing into a moan as he shoved his hardness into me, pushing my hips to the ground. His hands grabbed my legs, wrapping them around his slender hips as he started a rough, fast pace, thrusting my giggles into submission.

I groaned, my head rolling back. He leaned down and nipped at my throat, sucking the skin there, marking me. I rocked my hips to meet his thrusts and cried out when it hit that spot - that _one spot _deep inside.

"Fenris," I breathed, voice shaky. "I didn't stop." I clenched my eyes shut, throwing my head back as the tip of his erection hit that spot again. "I couldn't _ever_ stop," I groaned, throwing my arms around his neck and pulling him to me. "I love you, whether you remember me or not." I pressed my face against his cheek, biting the skin of his jaw. "I can't _help _myself, damn it!" I snarled and yanked his head down so I could bite up his ear, sucking on the pointed tip. He growled and I felt him grow larger inside of me, pressing into my walls.

"Come for me," he commanded, hoarse voice whispering hot breath into my ear. "Come on my cock _now_, Hawke."

I whimpered, clamping my nails on his back and thrusting my hips against him. "Fenris," I moaned, biting my lip.

"_Come_," he roared, throwing his head back. My eyes caught the stressed veins of his neck, his flexing shoulders, rivulets of water and sweat dripping down his chest, trickling onto mine. My nipples taut and pressed against his hard muscle, rubbing, thrusting, kneading, and I felt him dagger himself inside of me one last time, hitting _that_ _spot_again as he came, shooting his seed into me, and I cried out, tumbling behind him over the cliff.

After the throes of orgasm faded, we trembled, limbs locked together. He didn't pull out of me, and I didn't release him, even as the wind drifted over us, cooling our bodies. His forehead met mine as we gasped, chests heaving.

"I missed you," I said, brow furrowing. I kissed the tip of his nose, and he sighed. "I'm sorry," I said, blinking back tears and rainwater.

"Sorry I found out?" Fenris growled. My hand slid from his back to brush his bangs out of his eyes; they matted across his forehead, stuck.

"Sorry I didn't explain to you earlier," I said in a small voice. "Sorry I didn't tell you before - I didn't want to upset you. It was _my _burden to carry." My vision clouded; definitely not from the rain. "I knew you would hate me, and I-" I choked, pressing my face into his shoulder. "I couldn't live with-"

Fenris sighed and rolled over, finally slipping out of my warmth. He pulled me halfway on top of him, wrapping an arm around me. "Stop that," he ordered, his free hand gliding up my waist to wipe the liquid running from my eyes.

"I _can't_," I sobbed, nuzzling his neck. "I'm sorry, so _sorry_, and I-" I frowned, trying to quell the tears. "Please don't leave," I begged. "Don't leave." Insecurity washed over me, and I was suddenly _terrified _that he would walk away.

He groaned, and I knew he was rolling his eyes. "Stop _crying_, Hawke. I'm not leaving."

I sniffed, cheeks warm as I peeked up at his face. "You're not?" I asked, hopeful.

"No," he replied, grimacing. "I'm not." He leaned up, cradling me to his chest and glowering up at the gray heavens. He used his body as a shelter from the rain, lanky muscle protecting me from the Maker's storm.

"I love you," I said into his neck. "You know I do, right?" I sniffled, hoping he would understand. "I didn't want anything bad to happen to you." I pressed my face against his skin, trying to physically stem my crying, but couldn't; I only succeeded in muffling a moan. "I _love_ you. I _love _you." I said it over and over until I was overcome with tears, my words incomprehensible.

Fenris merely sighed and wrapped his arms around me. I knew we had to move; I didn't want him to catch his death in the _rain_, of all things, but I couldn't find the willpower to stand, let alone leave his embrace. "I know," he said solemnly, voice quiet. He rested his chin on my head as I cuddled into his chest, weeping.

-o-

The salty wind blew into my face as I stared across the starboard side of the ship; I inhaled the air, unable to wait for the castoff that would take place in a few minutes. The deck of the ship was buzzing with activity as my companions hurried to stow away their last-minute cargo in the hold, Isabela always shouting orders and laughing from the cockpit.

She couldn't wait for castoff, either.

Kirkwall held nothing for me; not anymore. My family was gone, my duties null, and the city in shambles. I wasn't going to pull it off its ass again; the weight of it had fallen on me twice - two times too many, if you asked me.

"Hawke," Fenris said; I hadn't heard his feet cross the wooden deck in the din around us. I turned to smile at him, and he leaned down to kiss me, a soft peck of lips on lips. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," I responded, returning my gaze to the sea. He stepped behind me, wrapped his arms around my torso. "And you?"

"My place is at your side," he said confidently.

"And Danarius?" I asked, raising my eyebrow.

"Can't hide forever." I heard the smile in his voice; he kissed my neck, trailing heat down my spine.

"What if he's dead?" I challenged, arching my neck sideways in offering.

"Then he's dead," he murmured, teeth grazing my flesh.

I inhaled the scent of saltwater, heard the birds screaming overhead. A pressure built in my chest, a tangible need set off by his presence. "Iloveyou," I forced out quickly, then chuckled. "I feel like I can't say it enough. I didn't get the chance to, last time..." I trailed off. "Are you _sure_?" I asked again. I wouldn't have him making any decisions because of _my _wishes.

If our experiences proved anything, it was that Fenris was his own master.

"'I've never been more sure of anything in my life,'" he quoted, resting his chin on my shoulder. "You don't _want _me to go," he stated. "Why do you keep asking? My answer will not change."

I sighed. "I know." And I did. I needed only the reminder - that he accepted my shortcomings, that he would _forgive me_ - well, he hadn't said the exact _words_, but I knew he was ready to put my careless stumble behind us. "I just don't want to fuck it up, you know?"

"You won't 'fuck it up', Hawke," Fenris said patiently, leaning his head against my cheek. "Marian."

I rolled my eyes. "_Marian_," I mocked. "Marian. I can't imagine why you thought it was so important to call me Marian."

"I like Marian," he confessed.

"Then why do you call me Hawke?" I asked, tilting my head.

He shrugged. "It sounds professional, I suppose."

I turned around in his arms and kissed him on the cheek, my hands running across his ribs. He had filled out again - as 'filled out' as an elf could get. Tight muscles, lanky frame, strong jaw, cocky eyes... "Everyone already knows we're lovers," I said dryly. "I doubt they'll mind if you call me Marian."

"Hmm," he hummed, lips dragging across my face. "No, I believe I'll keep it to myself." He smiled against my mouth. "Marian," he said, ghosting the touch to the bridge of my nose and planting another kiss. "My Marian." He cocked his head, and I closed my eyes. "I like the sound of that."

"You're an ass," I said to him, giggling at the reminder. _Your ass._ "_Your Marian_. Will you be _my Fenris_, just to even the playing field?" I blushes slightly as I realized that he was already _my Fenris _in my head.

"Did you really think I would be able to leave you?" he asked me, changing tones and wrapping his arms around me and kissing the shell of my ear.

"You had me scared at one point," I admitted, ducking my head to evade the affection and laughing when he ducked with me, refusing to give up. "Stop, that _tickles_!"

I leaned up and kissed his lips quickly, causing him to forget that he was tormenting me for a moment, and he depend the kiss, his tongue sliding easily across mine.

"You two lovebirds cut it out over there," the pirate said from her perch. "We're about to set sail!"

"Where do you want to go?" Fenris asked, forehead meeting mine.

"Does it matter?" I returned. "Kirkwall is finished."

"You insisted that the bloodmage bring her mirror on board," Fenris added. "You must have a reason."

"I think it's pretty," I teased, rolling onto the balls of my feet to kiss him again.

He shook his head, exasperated. "Never mind. I'm sure you'll come out and tell me sometime - you're awful at keeping secrets."

I laughed as Isabela began barking orders at the crew, and twisted out of Fenris's grasp as we set sail, leaving the City of Chains behind us.

* * *

><p><strong>I want to thank everyone for sticking with this story; I know it's mediocre and my writing needs work, but this had initially been a speedwriting practice prompt that grew wildly out of proportion. Don't expect a sequel! I like where it is, and to be honest I'm ready to start something new - so, if you liked this one, you may want to stick around, yeah? -crosses fingers-<strong>

**And **_**really**_**, how could anyone think this wouldn't end up happily? I love **_**shut-the-fuck-up-get-out-my-face-whaat**_**? endings, and I **_**adore**_** cliffhanger endings, but this was always planned as a HPA.  
><strong>

**Sunshine, puppies and rainbows to every person who read this story,  
>-d.b<strong>

**P.S. YOUR **_**ASS**_**!**


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